Ardeas
by Regnet
Summary: Ardeas, a girl with a troubled past, is taken to Meduseld. Life in Edoras is full of prejudices and lies. The story begins prior to Grima's arrival. Please note this story is DEAD.
1. Chapter One

A/N: I ask only that you please be gentle on me inyour reviews of this story. It isn't perfect, but I have put a lot of effort into it, and as it goes on, I think the quality of the story itself improves. Thanks for reading, leave a review, and I hope you enjoy. Regnet

Chapter I

It's dark outside. And cold. I'm still hungry, and it's just started to rain. I turn around and look in the window of the cottage. There are Rourn and Findulwyn enjoying their dinner next to a roaring fire. Rourn sees my face, makes a rude gesture, and gets up. He walks slowly to the cupboard, pulls out a piece of moldy and stale bread, walks to the door, and throws it into a puddle. Dinner. 

I scramble over to the bread and take it out of the puddle before any mud gets into it. I stand up and stumble over to the small barn that's next to the house. The wind begins to blow, pouring rainwater over what parts of my tattered dress and cloak are still dry, but I don't really mind because I'm used to it by now, after ten years of working for Rourn and helping his wife around the house. And every night they send me away with a piece of bread, or an occasional piece of meat or vegetable. I sleep in the stables, which isn't much help either because the ceiling leaks and even the cow and the donkey dislike me. I've lived for fourteen years and never really found a purpose in life. I have no memory before this. I don't know who I am, what I'm here for, or what I'm supposed to do. My name is the only thing they've really given to me, since I have forgotten my own. Raugwen. They never told me what it meant. They always laughed whenever I said my name. Rourn is an intelligent person, and he knows many languages. We are humans living on the plains of Rohan. Many people from around the area and even further come to ask advice of my Master. He always makes sure Findulwyn takes me out of sight when they come. I don't know, and I don't really care. I am used to this whole mess that my life really is. I don't really think there is anything better.

I crawl into the barn, pick the mold off my bread, eat it in ten seconds, and fall asleep, listening and feeling the rain. 

Rain had always been my favorite weather, excluding thunderstorms. We never had rain on the plains as often as I should like. It was cool, and it was almost comforting, that is, if I wasn't already cold.

---

Somebody is shaking me awake the next morning. It's Findulwyn.

"Get up, you lazy good-for-nothing wench! Your Master is having company. We can't let you be seen!"

I knew better than to test her patience, but I had been in the middle of a glorious dream, and I was reluctant to see it end. Findulwyn slapped me across the face.

"I said, 'GET UP!'" she roared. The slap stung terribly, and it meant business. I stood up as quickly as I could. "Now they're going to be here any minute! Get out!"

My stomach rumbled. I probably wasn't going to get any breakfast either, not that it really mattered. She shoved me through the barn door and out into the open. The plains were wide, and for the most part, flat; I could almost distinctly see horses and riders trotting toward my Master's small cottage. They would reach the cottage in several minutes. I didn't get a chance to admire the beautiful blue sky or the wet grass or even the one tree for miles that stood next to our cottage.

The tree was now in blossom. Rourn was very proud of it and wouldn't even let me go near it. Findulwyn shoved me down, taking a large bucket of water and dumping it over me. She didn't like that my skin got dirt on the floor. Findulwyn pushed me through the cottage door and under the bed. I stared up blankly at the rungs that held the straw mattress. When I was hid in the cottage, it meant usually the riders were here to buy the milk of the famed "Elven Cow," as if that would make the milk any more special. I believed it was all just a big fraud. Rourn was lying, I knew that much.

hey would be in the barn, and Rourn would ruin my bed so it looked natural, like nobody ever slept there. If I was told to go outside in the woods, it meant the guests would be asking for advice and buying milk. If I was pushed up into the loft where people couldn't see me by just glancing through the barn doorway, it meant they were only going to ask for advice.

Our "Elven" cow was just an ordinary cow. Rourn just used the title because he was lazy. He didn't really feel like going to the village everyday (a good three miles) to sell milk like everyone else. And there were enough people gullible enough for him to keep up the title. Not only that, but Rourn was respected, and almost anything he said was taken as truth.

I pulled one of the many blankets off the bed and successfully dried myself. Findulwyn would never have forgiven me (like she ever would) if she had returned to the house to find a puddle of water on the floor. I thought about all the good memories I had of my life while I waited under the bed, trying not to sneeze from the dust. The time when I had seen my reflection in the creek was the best one. I don't really know if I was beautiful or not. I certainly looked better than Findulwyn with all her wrinkles. I had washed my black hair that hung down almost to my waist, but then Findulwyn had cut it when I came home, leaving me with slightly choppy hair that barely touched my shoulder blades. That was what really ruined the memory. My face was now dirty, and my hair had barely grown since that cut. I felt a sneeze coming on so I reached up my hand and plugged my nose. It worked, as it usually did. Findulwyn was outside, which meant somebody important was coming, and she was cleaning up the barn. Maybe it was a prince, or even the king. Once in a long while the king would come to ask for advice. He had even once asked Rourn to become one of his aides, but for some reason that I really didn't care to know, Rourn turned him down.

I really hated this life, but it was all I knew. Everything in my world was spiteful and painful. Planting the vegetables and wheat, scrubbing and scouring the floors until my knuckles bled, everything was wrong, off color. I heard the horses trot up to the cottage. He was here. Maybe it was King Théoden. Maybe it was somebody else. Maybe I would suddenly choke and die. Maybe everything bad could end.

_Knowing my luck, my limbs will be forcibly removed from my body by Rourn in a rage before I die_, I thought grimly.

I heard voices from outside. Rourn would be showing them into his barn. I could hear, somewhat, the soft voice of Findulwyn, sweet talking them into buying milk from the "Elven" cow. What a bunch of manure. There was some clatter from the barn, and it sounded like Rourn or someone else had knocked over some cannisters of what not. I felt the sneeze coming back, so I plugged my nose. My head knocked up trying to withhold the sneeze, and by hitting the mattress, I ended up just sending more dust down on me, and all that dust was going to send me into a fit of sneezes. At least they weren't going to come in here. Someone, who appeared to be heavyset by the steps he took, left the barn. I heard a horse whinny. Someone was loading the "Elven" milk. I could have burst out laughing. Only Findulwyn would have heard, and then my ears would receive a good boxing, not something I would have looked forward to. I hadn't expected a lord to be so stupid to fall for the Elven cow gag. There was some quiet for a while, as my ears couldn't pick up everything going on in the barn or outside. I heard the door to the cottage open. That was strange because I didn't hear the horses ride away.

"My lord," Rourn began, as I heard from the open door, "We did not know you would seek my advice. We have not prepared the cottage for a visit as regal as your own. Perhaps we could discuss matters outside."

"Nay, Rourn. Wind carries voices to unwanted ears. Your abode does not look poorly, in fact, it looks better than when I was here last time."

It was Théoden. Uh oh. Not good. "My lord, I beseech you. My cottage is not prepared for an esteemed visit by a lord such as yourself."

Bloody hypocrite. He preached to lords that slavery was wrong. He didn't want to be punished for disobeying his own laws. I should have screamed. I should have done something. I didn't realize it before. I could be free of Rourn's wrath. I could finally be free. I pondered that thought for a moment. I reasoned that Théoden, being the king, would probably be a lot worse as a master, considering how he probably was especially demanding, being the king and all. Either way, there was no telling what Findulwyn or Rourn would say. If Théoden was convinced that I was not being treated poorly, they would quite literally skin me alive for an outburst that could lead them into trouble. And even if I was taken away from them, adopted by someone, cared for by someone, even loved by someone, Rourn would never forget me. He would always seek revenge. Not really what I was looking for.

"Rourn, I see no problem in discussing matters of state. I know very well that the messenger I sent did not tell you of this matter to be discussed, but it had just come up before I left. I am _requesting_ your advice." This was a death voice. Rourn and Findulwyn had frequently used it on me. But now they were going to come in, which meant Théoden's men were going to come in, which meant there weren't enough chairs, and to make a long sentence short, one or two would have to sit on the bed and inevitably squash me. Not that I minded, but running out of air was going to be a painful death. It might take as long as five minutes or more. I heard Rourn and Findulwyn's meek footsteps enter the room after the King of the Mark. I heard several footsteps more as Théoden's men entered. They all appeared to be tall, for their strides were long. The taller they were, the more muscle they had, the more muscle they had, the more they weighed, the more they weighed... well, it was easy to tell. Findulwyn seemed to get an idea of what would happen if they sat down on the bed. I heard her hurried footsteps over to the bed as she laid down full length.

"I'm afraid I'm feeling faint." The guards just stood against the wall. Findulwyn was small and was quite light, though even now I was forced to turn my head on its side so I could breathe. When she had lain down, it had sent dust all over me, but I could not move my hand to brush it away from my nose for fear of being heard or seen. The dust settled substantially, and I was able to turn my head back upright.

"Rourn, I must ask that your wife not be present while discussing this matter of state."

"But my lord, my wife, if she even considered telling anyone what had been said behind these closed doors which I know she wouldn't, she wouldn't be able to. She never leaves the house; we have never written any letters. She has no form of communication with the outside world."

"Even so, Rourn, I must ask that your wife not be present." Another death voice.

"Yes, my lord." Findulwyn reluctantly got up from the bed, and I heard her footsteps as they headed to the door. The door opened, and with more footsteps, she was gone. As soon as she was gone, two of the soldiers left their place at the wall for a place to sit. There must have been shock plastered all over Rourn's face, but he could do nothing without arousing suspicion. I felt a great weight settle at the foot of the bed, squashing my feet so that there was barely enough room when my feet were horizontal with the floor. That hurt. A lot. But I bit my lip to keep the scream within my mouth. I must have bitten through the skin because I tasted my blood. I was hard pressed not to spit it out, though I stubbornly refused to swallow my own blood. The other man sat down on the bed where my chest would be. Of all the luck. I might get my wish of dying after all. His weight settled on my chest. I couldn't raise my chest to breathe. My breath came in short gasps, but I managed to keep it quiet, but if he sat on my head, I was lost. Can you guess what happened next? I couldn't believe it. The soldier/guard shifted. His weight established itself on my head. Maybe I did wish to die, but suffocation is minutes of agony, never knowing when you're going to die. My eyes began to water from the lack of oxygen as I tried to struggle under his weight. He wasn't feeling anything. I squeezed my head to turn on its side, and it made a loud thump on the floor. The guards jumped off of the bed. I instantly suppressed a sigh of dismay.

"What was that?" Théoden asked, "Is no one here?"

"No one is here, sire." Rourn sounded desperate, almost pleading that the King of the Mark believe him. I could almost imagine it. Théoden King would give Rourn a look of slight distrust. He would glance around the room, looking for hiding places, looking for unfriendly faces at the windows. The soldiers abruptly stood, awaiting their lord's command. I began to cough lightly, almost inaudibly, laboring to get air into my lungs. They must have heard me cough, though. I had a strange feeling come over me as the King's footsteps near the bed. Was I happy to be saved? Was I frightened of the impending wrath of Rourn and Findulwyn? Did I even want to be saved? I didn't have much of a choice. With surprising strength for one his age, the King lifted up the bed, flipping it over, revealing me, haggard, coughing, and dirty. I looked up at the lord for a few seconds, but averted my gaze. I coughed one last time. My hands clasped each other, seeking a security I had a feeling I wouldn't find. Time seemed to slow as Théoden King looked down at me, scrutinizing me, deciding what to do with me, and what to do Rourn and Findulwyn. His handsome face was weathered, beaten by the winds of change and time. His hair was golden, and I saw the wrinkles, but more like signs of age. He must have been around 60. My fingers finding no comfort intertwined among themselves, found a pleat in my tattered skirt that I tried to smooth out. Théoden did not say anything for five seconds.

He turned viciously to Rourn, "How dare you! A spy! I would have thought better of you!" He stooped down like an eagle going after a fish. He gripped me by my shoulders and pulled me up. "You!" I had a good feeling a sarcastic reply wasn't going to help much. I kept a tight lip. I wasn't going to sign my death warrant.

There was a death silence as he waited for me to answer.

"What do you think you were doing!" His voice had just changed from anger to rage. With response or no response I'd most likely die. Well, might as well.

"I'm not spying!" I pleaded, "He hid me here so you wouldn't see me." There. I had finally said it. A nice pat on the back would have completed it.

Théoden shook my shoulders, "Who are you!" I was not about to say Raugwen because that would earn hilarious remarks from Rourn, if he had the guts to say any. My mind strove for an answer. I decided not to say my name. That left me at an impassé. What exactly was I? Slave? Maybe, but I didn't want to say that. I might as well admit that I'm a lunatic if I say 'slave.' 'Non-paid servant' sounded stupid. What was I anyway? My mind strove for adjectives in the seconds that would give me time to think: harshly treated, hungry, damp, dirty, and... lost. Yep, lost, I suppose. I wasn't Rourn or Findulwyn's child, that's for sure. Oh, might as well say slave. It will only kill me afterwards.

"A slave," I said with as much emotion as possible, looking for a pity factor in him.

Even slightly sarcastic, the word was bitter on my tongue. I had finally admitted verbally of my existence. It wasn't pretty. 'Servant' would have sounded better, but Rourn and Findulwyn didn't pay me, except for room and board, which really wasn't room and board.

"Why were you listening in?"

"I couldn't care less what you were talking about," I snapped, "Do you think I even wanted you to come in here? Do you think I wanted to be shoved under the bed this morning? Do you think I wanted to be smothered?" I had forgotten manners. This was the king to whom I was talking. But afterall, I had never really talked to anyone higher than Rourn's status. Oops. Théoden's grip left my shoulders. He brought one hand up, as if to slap me, but brought it down as if he thought better of it. His eyes softened at me, which surprised me. I had just insulted him. well, I had just been rude to him, at least.

"This was not your fault," he said softly to me. Oh really. How fortunate I am to have you tell me these things. But I didn't say that. He didn't know. He was ignorant of my servitude, if it could be called that.

Théoden turned his face toward Rourn. Théoden King was livid, to put it very lightly.

"My lord!" Rourn cried with a final desperation. He had been watching our exchange with the utmost horror on his face, "I can explain!"

"No explanation can save yourself from your hypocrisy!" Théoden snarled. I couldn't have said it better myself. "You have a girl in your keeping that you obviously mistreat! You have made her your slave!"

If Théoden would have allowed him, I think Rourn would have died right then, but Théoden wasn't finished. "I cannot believe I ever trusted such a traitor with my questions and secrets! Take he and his wife away! They will come to the dungeons to rot for their treachery not only toward me, but toward this girl!" Théoden's guards let their spears give an eloquent speech of their own to Rourn. He would have struggled, but the fine points of the spears spoke for themselves, rendering him speechless, and almost helpless. But he was not so helpless that he couldn't verbally retaliate.

He turned in rage on me, "You foolish girl! You brought this on me! This is your fault! You haven't seen the last of me!" His threats were empty. Even I knew that, which made him seem even more pathetic.

The men dragged him away, out of the door, calling to the other guards who found Findulwyn crouching by the window, racking with sobs. She had been listening in anyway. Théoden turned back to me, a fatherly gaze piercing my face.

"I'm sorry this grievous incident has happened." You could say that again. I was sorry too. "Do you know where your parents are?"

"I have no memory before this life." "How long have you been here?"

"Ten years, I think." "Ten years!" he exploded. I made a mental note not to get him mad. Ever, "That does make quite a difference!" I rubbed my thin arms as he vented his anger on the bed I had vacated when he had flipped it over. With his sword, he easily sliced it in half.

He breathed for a while, holding his sword in his hand. The guards had wisely left us alone, probably fearing Théoden should choose to blame one of them, especially the one who sat on my face. He sheathed his sword, turned and smiled at me.

"What is your name, child?" I twisted a lock of hair between my fingers.

"I don't know."

"I will give you a name then, child." I nodded. I really didn't care.

"Your name is Ardeas, child." It didn't sound bitter. The name rolled off my tongue with ease. "Ardeas."

A/N: Raugwen meaning "demon maiden" in Sindarin


	2. Chapter Two

A/N: Yes, chapter 2. Finally. I had been worried I would encounter the dreaded writer's block, which is, of course, more of a threat to me than others, because I do not write with outlines, and if I don't know where the story is going, it is going to take more than a miracle to salvage it. But enough on that. In the last chapter, Raugwen becomes Ardeas, being discovered and saved by Théoden from her oppressors Rourn and Findulwyn. But don't worry. I have a feeling that after they're put in dungeons we still won't see the last of them. It would add some great character stuff. And for all those who care, Théoden is around 64, making this t.a. 3012, six years before the Ring goes berserk and the whole Ringwraith thing happens in the Shire (I can almost hear Tolkien rolling over in his grave at my words. I'm assuming (from a source that I can't remember) that Gríma Wormtongue is with Théoden for around five years, which means that Gríma began his leechcraft around t.a. 3014, because Gandalf heals Théoden on March 2nd, t.a. 3019, according to Return of the King appendices. So, right now in my story, Théoden is free of leechcraft, though in two years he's going to begin to be consumed. Éomer is now 21 and Éowyn is 17, again according to the appendices (so you can't constest that!). Théodred is 34 now (that is so OLD- pardon me, time goes to quickly). But enough of this confounded Author's Note. Here we are at Rourn & Findulwyn's house, with all of them preparing to leave.

Wait!! Just one more thing. About her name: I don't know any Rohirric (if that's what the language is called) so I was forced to make something up, whereas Raugwen actually meant something in Sindarin (though I would have preferred something in Quenya).Disclaimer: I'm not putting these in anymore. Nobody in their right mind claims to own anything book recognizable.

Chapter II

Théoden smiled at me. "The name suits you well."I didn't want to ask what it meant. It might mean something awful, though I doubted it. Théoden seemed like a kindly man, now that he was done shaking me by my shoulder, demanding to know why I had been "spying."Théoden strode to the door, "Is there anything you want to take? We should be leaving soon."I shook my head. There was nothing left for me here, and I didn't want anything of Rourn or Findulwyn's, except for burning later for reasons of personal amusement (but I decided not to). It was all ahead of me now, wherever Théoden planned to take me. I had only lived for fourteen years, and now I was confronted by a feeling I had never known before. It was excitement; that something new was going to happen. That my life was about to change, hopefully for the better, was an exhilarating feeling.Life before had been utterly predictable, very monotonous. Nothing ever was really out of the ordinary.Théoden nodded absentmindedly. He motioned for the door. I carefully stepped over the ruins of the bed, and stepped through the door. It felt different. I wasn't going to be sleeping in a barn tonight. I wasn't going to be hoping for some milk or bread or cheese or a vegetable. I was free. Free. People don't understand it until it's gone.Rourn stood by the door, shackled (I later wondered why they had even brought shackles), cursing in tongues that sounded vile. Findulwyn knelt weeping beside him, probably hoping for a last dash of pity that would never come.Théoden unhooked his cloak and clasped it around my shoulders. It was not cold, but maybe he did not want me to feel ashamed when we got to wherever we were going to go."Unless you wish to ride with your former guardians, you may ride with Brannen." Théoden motioned toward a soldier at least ten years older than me.I didn't need to answer. I would rather have run than rode with Rourn or Findulwyn. All of the guards mounted, with Rourn and Findulwyn being pushed on two separate horses and placed at separate ends of the company, apparently so they couldn't plot. A guard rode with them to ensure their capture. Brannen mounted his horse and rode up beside me.He offered his hand to help me up, but I did not wish him to think me entirely helpless. I just shook my head a little so I would not seem rude, and climbed into the saddle. I had originally planned to sit behind him, but as I climbed he said:"Sit in front so I may keep an eye on you."I guess he was concerned. He look at me as if I were a dangerous person, but instead looked at me with pity. I didn't like that look of pity, but I sat in front of him anyway.Théoden raised his arm, in a signal to commence the journey. Our horse trotted along after the other horses.He smiled at me, "What is your name?"He didn't address me as child. I liked that."Ardeas.""That is a very beautiful name, Ardeas. How old are you?""Fourteen, I think.""You are not sure?""They only told me how old I was when they were in a good mood. It has been long since they told me my age."I could sense that he was frowning, but he did not respond to that. I didn't have much to tell or say. I didn't want to talk anyway. Maybe I could get him to talk about his own life."What about you?"It eventually became known to me through his talkativeness that he was 24, exactly as I thought, ten years older than me. He had been a guard/soldier since the age of 17. He had a wife, two twin daughters around 5, and a son about 3. His father was a member of the court, and he had lived in Edoras all his life. He was the middle of five brothers, and he was the only one who chose the army as his occupation.

Riding was extremely uncomfortable, least of all exciting, and after half an hour, I was sore all over. I henceforth sympathize with people who ride horses constantly.

I was rather surprised that it took only two hours before I saw Edoras, standing alone on a hill, in a wide valley surrounded by mountains. We paused before it. The sight was breathtaking. The wind captured the rolling grass, rippling through it like water."Beautiful, is it not?" Brannen asked."It is." I answered.He sighed at the sight of it. I thought it looked nice, but it really wasn't that awe-inspiring.Our horse began again, walking, almost trotting toward the city, as if the horse itself was delighted to return to the city, which I'm sure it was.Sitting on a horseback for two hours, was to the point of unbearable. I had never done it before and in a moment of haste, swore I would never do it again. My stomach was howling rather unbecomingly, but I managed to keep it quiet. I really didn't want pity, and my pride had a will of its own.The whole area was a windy beyond belief. I had never been in a place like this before. But I really shouldn't say that because I can't remember being anywhere before Rourn and Findulwyn. Maybe I could remember someday.Brannen had returned to his ramblings about life on his horse, and what a great horse it was that we were riding. From a few nods, he was satisfied I was listening with rapt attention. I didn't really mind. He seemed like a nice person.The horses plodded ever on to reach the capital city. I saw on top of the hill a golden hall. The sun was shining on its roof, making the thatch give off a golden glow. I didn't like the sun. I showed all of my dirt and haggardness. I might have been beautiful in face, but the rest of me left a lot to be desired.I felt almost embarrassed in front of a guard wearing pristine armor. It would have been better to sit behind him so I wouldn't see people's stares at me. But you can't have everything.I felt strange next to him, like a moldy piece of bread against a new roast. I felt out of place. My hair was not greasy, but it could have been better. My dress had rips along the bottom, and many patches over the front and back, even if the cloak covered it. And there were some holes without patches, in very unbecoming places, which made me feel even worse. Théoden had better get me some clothing so I don't end up looking like a whore (I didn't know what that was, but she always called me one when I had a lot of uncovered holes in my dress). I shuddered at the thought.We reached the gates of Edoras soon. I felt very uncomfortable. I felt very much like a nasty looking piece of baggage. I thanked however controlled things on Middle-earth for the cloak Théoden decided to give me.I earned strange and curious looks from about anyone who could see and who noticed. That wasn't as bad as the pitying looks that made me feel awful. There was one young lady who seemed to guess it all and gave me a look of utter pity.I stuck out my tongue and made a rude gesture with my hand. I probably should not have done that, but I still felt unbreakable, unbeatable, and my pride didn't like pity. Rourn and Findulwyn had not broken me yet.Some of the people around her gasped. She herself made some sort of gasping snort that sounded very ridiculous as if I had just defiled the graves of Thengel and Fengel and turned back into her cottage, her long blonde hair flipping around as she turned. She couldn't have been more than twenty.I smiled at that.I felt Brannen go stiff behind me. I was about to ask what was wrong when it hit me- that must have been his wife.I turned around to apologize and was quite surprised to see his features desperately trying not to curl into a broad grin. Needless to say, he wasn't succeeding."So that wasn't your wife?"He smiled broadly, forsaking whatever edict that commanded the soldiers to have a neutral face."Oh, it was." He was holding back so much laughter that his eyes were watering.To say I was very embarrassed was an understatement. I had been sure that was just some stupid villager's wife/daughter that I flicked her off for that pity look she gave me. Now, not only was that the wife of one of the very powerful, very strong, very good with a spear soldiers who were taking me to wherever Théoden was going, I was sitting on that man's horse, directly in front of him where I couldn't really see his actions. It's a very good thing he wasn't angry.He didn't offer an explanation and I didn't ask for one. They had probably just been in an argument for a day or two or something like that.We reached the steps to the afforementioned Golden Hall with not much more ado. All of the riders dismounted. Brannen once again offered to help me down, but I wasn't one of those snivelling little damsels-in-distress so I got down on my own.He still looked amused.The wind was trying to show the world that my hair was disgusting. It blew the hood off my head, and my hair whipped around for a few seconds before a quickly pulled the hood back on. I could almost feel some of the stares at my hair. I knew it looked revolting, and I didn't need them to tell me as well.Brannen chuckled slightly, so I turned around and threw him a punch in the stomach. "My hair isn't my fault," I said very softly, and very menacingly.I heard a few of the soldier/guards laugh outloud behind me as Brannen doubled over in pain. I muttered as I rubbed my fist, "Your stupid armor hurt my fist.""What was that for?!" he demanded."You made fun of me.""I did no such thing!""Oops, then." I offered a hand to help him up, but he refused it. Stubborn. But I smiled.He muttered something about the stupidity of women, but I gave him a glare that shut him up. It was nice being a female. They couldn't hit back at me, unless either they were violent (which was bad) or my father/husband (slaps only). Brannen was neither.We began the trudge up the steps to the entrance of the doors. I was somewhere in the middle, Rourn and Findulwyn somewhere behind me. I didn't care to look. Brannen still held his stomach with one arm, as if he'd been mortally wounded. I felt empowered.As Théoden reached the top of the stairs, a young woman with waist length blonde hair ran out."Uncle!" she cried, throwing herself into his arms in a hug.She nearly put him off balance as I saw him teeter for a fraction of a second, but regained his balance and hugged her back.She pulled away, "But back so soon? I thought you said the matter would take an hour at least."The woman was very beautiful, a cool kind of beauty, no doubt very stern and proud. But at the moment she was smiling and laughing with her arms around Théoden's neck.She saw me while hugging her uncle. The smile left her face. She frowned."Who is that, Uncle?"She pulled away from his embrace. I looked down, very ashamed.Théoden King spoke in hushed tones to his niece. I stood uneasily, shifting from one foot to another, and I earned occaisional glances during the conversation from the young woman. I noticed a few of the soldiers giving me those out-of-the-corner-of-the-eye glances/stares. I must have been a source of general amusement, my appearance and all. But they had seen poor Brannen, and I heard naught but Théoden's hushed conversation with his niece and the wind.Finally the King finished speaking. He turned back at me and smiled, a very small smile. I liked him. I smiled back. He went onto a porch and through double doors into the building. The woman made a beeline for me as the other soldiers walked into the building or dispersed. Brannen gave me a squeeze on the shoulder, smiled, and walked down the stairs in a different direction, but apparently, still going to go into the building. The young woman approached me."So, you must be Ardeas."No. I'm the Steward of Gondor."I am."She gave me an appraising look, looking me up and down. It made me feel uncomfortable. She sighed."You need to get cleaned up."The Obvious had been spoken.She must have been only slightly younger than twenty, but she seemed very mature for her age. She could have easily passed herself off for the age of thirty if you only heard her voice alone.She took my hand and led me up the steps. I was not a helpless child. I jerked my hand out of hers. She gave me a withering look. When she turned around I stuck out my tongue. We were going to get along just fine, I thought.She led and I followed up the stairs and onto a sort of porch before she thrust open the double doors, and we were within a giant hall. At the head of the hall were a few steps up, and then a throne. Théoden sat on the throne, amongst a crowd of men huddling about him, whispering. Advisors, apparently. A skylight of sorts was above, and it let light down on the intricate floor, decorated beautifully. Each pillar was carved with delicate horses, and on every wall were tapestries, some apparently signifying some province, and other telling a story. The story tapestries seemed to focus on a young blonde man on a horse. Windows flooded the room with light. But I didn't get a chance to admire the grandness of the hall.The stepped quickly and led down the side of the hall. There were a set of double doors, with a guard on each side. They must have led to the royal apartments because why else would guards be there? They were probably there to keep inquisitive peasants out.They opened the doors, and we strode quickly in. I did not want to be thought to not be in the company of this woman and be not permitted in, so I made sure I was almost beside her.The hall immediately turned a sharp right, and we passed down several doors in the hall. The hall itself was not overly bright, unlike the main hall, but neither was it pitch black. There was merely enough light to see where you were going, even though it was almost high noon outside. Maybe there would be windows in the rooms.We passed a few more doors when she opened one on our left. A large tub stood in the center, filled with steaming water. Many multicolored bottles stood on the edge of the tub, all of various sizes and shapes. I had never seen anything like this before. What the heck was going on?"I usually take my bath at this hour, but since you seem to be in a more dire need of cleaning than I do, I will let you take this bath instead, and I will bathe later."This was a bathing room?? Good grief! You could give a horse a bath in this tub. Well, almost. But I kept my mouth shut. I should have known. But bathing rooms... I had never heard of that before. I bathed in the creek, when I could get away from Rourn and Findulwyn. This was far too grand for me. I could never feel comfortable."But..." I began."No 'buts'. Take your clothes off and get in the tub."I flushed a deep scarlet as she made no sign to leave."For heaven's sake, child. I'm going to help you with your bath, as I'm sure you've never had one like this before. Or would you prefer my brother help you bathe?"I shook my head so fast my head hurt when I stopped. She was right about this being my first, but still being awfully presumptious. I might have been a kidnapped queen for all she knew. Oh wait. She did know. Théoden told her."Could you at least turn around?"She sighed, but complied.I lowered the hood and cloak, turning around several times to make sure her back was turned. I removed the rest of my clothing very fast and jumped into the tub of water, making, though uninentionally, a very large splash. The woman muttered something about "young children," and turned around, heading for the side of tub where the bottles were. She opened the lid of a green bottle, flipped it over, and poured some liquid onto her palm. She put the bottle down and rubbed the lotion over her hands."Here. Let me do your hair."I was rather worried about what that liquid thing would feel, if it would be slimy or rather nasty. Maybe it was something to get rid of smell.I leaned back against the tub, unused to this kind of treatment. But I did have to admit. It did feel nice. It was unusual to be pampered by a princess, when it should have been the other way around."What is your name?" I asked, unsure if I should add a "your highness" or a "my lady" on the end of the question.But she didn't seem to mind, "Éowyn, Ardeas. My name is Éowyn."It was a pretty name. But I still liked my name better, or at least, the name the King of the Mark gave me.A million questions went through my mind. The main one was, "What the heck is a princess doing washing my hair?"."Are you a princess?" I asked tentatively before I could stop myself. Of course she was a princess. She was the king's niece. I hoped she didn't think I was just a stupid little girl.She smiled, "Yes. I suppose so. But just call me Éowyn."She finished my hair, and gently pushed the crown of my head underwater, keeping my face above water. She moved the green bottle closer to me on the edge of the tub."Here. Wash the rest of your body. I can guarantee you'll look much better."The Obvious was spoken again. Almost anything would have made me look better. Even washing myself with tar. It would have covered all the dirt."Call me when you're done, Ardeas. I'm going to get rid of these clothes and get you nicer ones.""Thank you," I called back, remembering that at least. But she was already out the door.I proceeded to use the lotion to cleanse away the rest of my body. A few bruises were still on my legs, thanks to Rourn when I accidentally spilled the water when he pushed me aside. A scar still remained on the back of my legs when I had tried to run away.When I had finished, Éowyn had not returned, but I assumed she must have been nearby. I had languished in the tub after she had left for at least half an hour, just letting myself soak, because I might not ever get this opportunity again.I heard a knock on the door. It was Éowyn."Are you finished, Ardeas? I've brought your clothes.""Yes. I'm finished."Éowyn opened the door and entered with a mound of clothing. She kicked the door closed with her foot and set the clothes down on a chair.She walked to the tub with a cloth and set it on the edge."Could you turn around?"She sighed again as I got out of the tub, and wrapped a thick cloth (which was thankfully very large) around myself. She motioned toward the pile of dresses that sat on the chair, her back still turned.They all seemed too much for me. Red, gold, green, purple, you name it. It was there. I closed my eyes and hoped for the best.My fingers were clasped tightly around a green dress. I held it up as best I could without letting the cloth fall. It was pretty plain, which suited me, and it had a high neckline, which made it unquestionably the best on there, as the other ones were more flatteringly cut. I found underwear underneath clothes.Éowyn busied herself around the room, cleaning up things, letting the water out of the tub, arranging the bottles, always making sure her back was to me. She didn't really have to do that, but it was nice that she respected my bashfulness.Making sure her eyes were not able to see me in the corner of her vision, I slipped on the garments. I picked up the cloth and roughly dried my hear hair.She, seeming to sense now that I was covered, gave a shriek at the way I was drying my hair."You cannot do it that way! You shall undoubtedly wind up very embarrassed!"As if she expected me to calmly produce a comb and gently brush the knots out of my hair.I paid no heed and continued drying my hair the way I had always dried it, except that I never used a drying cloth as nice as this or that I ended up smelling like... berries?With a sigh of exasperation, she strode over and forcefully removed the cloth from my hands. She pushed me over toward a table and a small looking glass that adorned it. She proceeded, much to my dislike, to hum softly to herself and brush my hair with a coarse brush she produced from somewhere on her person. With clips in her mouth, she did something unspeakable to a knot in my hair, causing me to yelp rather loudly,"Ouch!"She didn't respond, and there was a loud knock on the door."Who is it?" she called."It's me, Éomer," answered a masculine voice, "Are you presentable?"She dropped her clips onto the table and ran to the door, throwing it open, and embracing the blonde/brown headed man in his early twenties who stood there, leaving me at the table in this awkward situation."It's so good to see you again," she said.He smirked playfully at her, "And you grow more beautiful everyday."It didn't take excellent deduction skills to realize she was blushing."Thank you, brother. And I am sure you have many women trailing after your every move," she teased.Unforntunately so, mostly from-" he noticed me, "Who is this?""Oh, Brother, this is Ardeas. She is going to be living with us for quite some time."I am? Oh wait. Yeah I guess I am.He gave her a quizzical look, but ambled over to me, whereupon, he kissed my hand."It is a pleasure to meet you, Ardeas." He smiled. He looked a lot like his uncle."It's nice to meet you to," I said quickly, after a pause. I wasn't used to "kissing of hands" and frankly, I don't think I liked it. What if someone was really nasty or ugly or you hated their guts? Would you have to let them kiss your hand? Éomer was far from unpleasant; he seemed nice enough, I suppose. Maybe I was just unused to courtesy.He smiled again. "How old are you, milady?""Fourteen. And please don't call me a lady. I'm not really one.""And how did you get here?" he said pleasantly."I... uh..." I stammered.It was Éowyn who saved the day. "All will be explained later, Brother. I'm sure Uncle wishes to see you." She pointed not so subtly toward the door."I see," he laughed, "I will not interrupt my sister's hair ministrations.." He smiled at me again, "Just don't let her cook for you!""Why you ungrateful..." she swatted him as he strode quickly away, laughing. I couldn't help laughing myself."Do not listen to a word from him," she said. She reminded me of a mother who had once visited Rourn with her child while her husband sought counsel. I had never seen she and her five year old son upclose, but I had listened to her. She sounded so sweet and loving and caring. The kind of mother I never had, or at least, never remembered.Éowyn quickly finished my hair. I looked in the looking glass. I didn't recognize myself. My face was free of dirt. My hair, usually unkempt and greasy was smooth and soft and pulled up behind my head, but with a few strands left to frame my face. The green dress, which I had not really seen on myself until now, was a nice shade, a dark green, that matched my black hair."There. You look very beautiful."I looked strange. I didn't see Raugwen (whatever that meant) anymore. I looked like someone new. I looked like Ardeas. I looked a lot older, I noticed, with my hair done like this."I think you shall have all of the men staring tonight," she smirked.To say I was horrified was an understatement. For Elbereth's (I don't know who Elbereth was but Rourn used to say it) sake, I was fourteen. Would they want to kiss me?She saw my look of horror and patted my shoulder, "I was just teasing."Inwardly, I sighed in relief. She had better just be teasing. The last thing I needed was some man chasing me, a fourteen year old girl, around. I shuddered. At least Brannen could testify I could take care of myself.I still looked pale in the looking glass. Éowyn sighed. "Come. Let us take you outside and breathe some fresh air."She half dragged me toward the door, though I was eager to get out already.So much for all that fuss about my hair. It was going to get swept around by the wind anyway. ---- We reached the outside without much commotion. She had apparently forgotten that the whole of Rohan seemed to breed winds, but I guess she trusted her hair clips.The site was breathtaking, to say the least. It was so much better being at Edoras seeing the surroundings that looking from the surroundings to Edoras. There had been one poor woman who had had an breathing problem when she came for advice. Poor woman, but the only way I learned things about the wide world and all that was in it was from listening in as Rourn or Findulwyn talked.But anyway, I seemed to feel a lot better with air blowing straight at my face. Unsuprisingly, the wind blew the hair clips out, leaving my hair to flow freely in the wind, which I liked much better. Éowyn gave an exasperated sigh, and picked up the clips, but did not put them back in my hair, much to my delight.The porch offered a very nice view of Edoras and the surrounding area. The guards seemed curious, but did not move or speak. Éowyn and I just stood, looking out for a while."Would you like something to eat?" she asked.Is Edoras a city? Is Théoden a king? Do Elves live forever? The Obvious, once again, is spoken.I had been so excited I had forgotten all about my stomach, which was, by now, used to Rourn and Findulwyn's treatment. But I realized I was hungry.I nodded, being careful not to seem overly enthusiastic. Manners, I suppose.She turned and led me back through the doors toward where I presumed the kitchen. She led me off to the right of the main hall, toward a large door. When she opened it, I could have been in heaven. I could have died right then, completely content. Chicken, vegetables, and other things that smelled heavenly.I sighed. Edoras was not going to be bad at all.A/N: Ok, ok. All it takes now is to just press that little button to submit a review. I have not yet encountered a writer's block yet, but I am always open for suggestions about what should happen next. I also like comments about whether my story is mildly interesting, incredibly stupid etc etc. So just press that little button. ::prods reader toward it::. We know you can do it. 


	3. Chapter Three

RESPONSES:

Climesse: Thanks for pointing that out. Paris what's-his-last-name doesn't look like a forty-one-year-old prince in the movie (one of the many things I want to scream at Peter Jackson for), so I was kind of confused about that (I focus mainly on the timeline in the appendices). I think, now that the story is started, I am going to stick with Ardeas. It doesn't mean anything, as far as I know, but I like it.

Mariette: No, the last thing I'm going to do is make Ardeas fall in love with a member of the Fellowship (this is 2 years before Grima Wormtongue makes his appearance in Meduseld). If I did so, it would have to be either Legolas or Merry, and neither option appeals to me (Éowyn would claw her to bits if she even tried Aragorn). Legolas is bad, because there are way too many Legolas/OC stories out there, and Merry is bad, because of vertical plane differences, not that I don't like Merry. As I said before, I'm not even sure she'll even fall in love with someone, even if I did, there's no one in Rohan except my own characters (Éomer marries Lothíriel, daughter of Imrahil, and Théodred is 20 years older than her).

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

So yep, Chapter three... because I was (thankfully) corrected before I made a huge mistake about Théodred, Théodred will be perfectly Tolkien, leaving me to fill in the empty parts, as everyone does with all the characters. So right now, Théodred is an elderly 34 (anything over 22 is old to me), Éomer is 21, leaving Éowyn at 17, though she is much more mature having lost both her parents, one of whom slowly died before her (that would be inevitable in any person). Our beloved King Théoden is an aged 64 (almost time to put the old dear in a nursing home).

Chapter III

The kitchen staff were more than pleased when I had eaten all that I could. I never quite got done saying how delicious everything was, and all of it _was_ the most delicious things I had ever eaten. A person in particular, a slightly plump woman at least fifty named Rhya, was beaming in pride as I complimented the latest pastry she gave to me. I had never eaten so much in my life. I took a bite of the pastry. It was a berry of some sort that I had never tasted or seen, I assumed. Needless to say, I loved it.

"Delicious!" I said between mouthfuls.

She beamed even brighter if that was possible. She offered me another pastry, but my stomach was finally beginning to protest.

"I'm afraid my stomach isn't ready for more until dinner," I said, after swallowing the last mouthful.

"I understand, dearie," she said, but I could tell she was unhappy.

I didn't take to this 'dearie' stuff too well, but she seemed nice enough, so I let it slip by. Anyway, I should at least be grateful. After all, they really didn't have to treat me so nicely.

Éowyn sat watching me in horror at all the meat, pastries, vegetables, and fruit I ate. Apparently, she expected nothing less that I should just swell into a giant foodstuff and explode.

I started to wipe my mouth with the back of my hand, but, as if she just couldn't take it any more, she reached out, and stopped my hand, picking up the napkin from my lap and putting that in my hands, and then turning away, nearly afraid I might do something atrocious. I just smiled, but used the napkin to wipe my mouth and the surrounding area of berry stains that were sure to be there.

Éowyn turned back precisely as I had finished, taking the linen napkin from my hands, spitting on it, and rubbing it furiously over the spots that I had not managed to clean. I felt embarrassed at being uncouth, as Findulwyn had called me at more than one occaision. But when she finished, she just set the napkin down and smiled at me.

"What would you like to do?" she asked, pulling me out of my chair.

What was I supposed to say? Did she really expect an answer? She might have asked me what Elves did when they were feeling very pompous. But luckily, she didn't expect an answer, and instead, she just pulled me out of the kitchen toward a door that apparently led outside.

We were on a sort of uncovered porch facing the westward as the sun slightly pointed more in that direction. The wind was still blowing the same direction, and because we were on the opposite side of the Hall, our hair was blown in front of us, westward toward the sun. I looked at her questioningly. She had brought me out here for this? It's just the sun and the wind.

"The sky is most beautiful at sunset," Éowyn said matter-of-factly.

"I don't doubt it."

We stood in silence as the wind blew across our faces. She, looking at the glories of the plains around us, while I called back memories of times gone by.

I remembered the very first time I had seen Rourn and Findulwyn. I must have been four-years-old then. And that was the oldest memory I could recall. I remember stumbling down the path to their cottage, feeling hungry and homesick, and missing someone whom I now couldn't remember. I saw their cottage, faltering wearily toward it. I remembered Findulwyn rushing toward me, concern, the only time I had seen it, covering her face. It was then I fell forward, and I guess blacked out because I couldn't remember anything happening after that.

My next memory was quite clear indeed. I remembered Rourn picking me up and tossing me into the barn. I vaguely recall that Findulwyn argued with Rourn over something, but I couldn't hear. At my current age, I entertained thoughts that possibly she was arguing over his treatment of me, and that possibly she had wanted a daughter so bad, and that she had had a miscarriage before this, and she was mad how he expected me to be their slave. But most likely, he wanted an all vegetable dinner (he did, for some odd reason), and she wanted some meat.

For the first few weeks, Findulwyn was neutral to me. She didn't hate me, but neither did she treat me like a friend, or an acquaintance. She fed me well and made sure I was warm. She even made me a new blanket, in some urge of maternal broodiness, I'm sure. But after a month or so, Rourn finally convinced her not to become, I think the word was, "attached," to me, even though I don't think she ever was in the first place. After that it was work for Rourn, and if he wasn't calling me, it was slave away for Findulwyn who took to having me massage her stinking feet. And if I didn't do it exactly right, I might get lashed with her very long stick. If I didn't do Rourn's work exactly right, I received no food for two days. I had learned pretty quickly that there was no stubbornness with them. Rebellious thoughts were repressed if I didn't want to turn away empty, silent, and hungry. I was a slave, now able to admit it, though I did learn a lot from their talking at night, when they were finished with me.

Few good memories came with me to Edoras. Being at the creek was by far the best, but there were still other good ones. When Rourn would tell me how old I was, after I had worked harder than him in the field. When Findulwyn would give me a biscuit for scouring the floor and being sure not to get some of the blood from my knuckles on it. Once when Findulwyn and Rourn had gone away for the day, I had climbed Rourn's prized tree, sitting in the branches at sunset as the wind blew my hair behind me, with bees buzzing lazily around me, too full to bother stinging me.

When I had been little I had thought Rourn and Findulwyn were my parents and that this was how all of the other children were treated. I soon learned this was wrong when the first family came for counsel. The parents were strict, but they treated their children with dignity, respect, and love.

Rourn was livid later that evening when I had asked if he loved me. I took that for a maybe when he didn't answer, the naïve six-year-old that I was, unaware of anything, really.

I had always wished that I was a princess of some sort, and that one day my parents Mr. King and Mrs. Queen would come sweep me away to their hidden, large, and prosperous kingdom. That faded with time and was replaced by slightly different version. That Mr. Prince Charming would come sweep me away to get married. Mr. Charming was slightly based off my first crush, a young man, four years ago, probably about Brannen's age, had come to the house, seeking advice and counsel, as they always had done. He rode a horse, and dressed well, though not princely, but came with no envoy of some sort. I now realized he was probably the son of an upper middle class merchant, send here by his father for some economical or finance question. I had had one dream in particular where the man was actually a prince in disguise, and that he had come to marry me, and take me away from _them_, but Rourn had convinced him that I was not really here, and that he should look somewhere else, and that is why he left without me. Of course by now, thank whoever controlled these things, I had got over him, and currently was very pleased with staying by myself.

Éowyn motioned toward a stone bench that sat next to the building, offering a panoramic view of the surrounding area. I sat down next to her, watching some men practicing archery below and spear/javelin throwing below.

"Don't you have any Princess duties to attend to? I don't want to hold you up."

Éowyn laughed, "I have no real duties to do. Women are to be wed a man with either potential or wealth. I myself have only to wait."

"So you're just here for a wedding?"

"I suppose you could put it that way. 'Tis not as bad as it sounds, however. I have not become acquainted with anyone I would prefer to be married to as of now. It could be worse."

"What do you mean 'it could be worse'?"

"I could be married to someone involuntarily. An arranged marriage, some call it. But as a woman, you should be ready for such a situation. These marriages are not unusual."

"Arranged marriage?" I said. That was a concept I had never heard before.

"Marriage to someone not of your choosing. Although they are not always what we like, they usually work. I would detest such a marriage, however.."

"Fun," I said sarcastically.

"'Tis not so bad. One of my close friends was in an arranged marriage. She had never met the man, but she is happy now. My father had been part of an arranged marriage until the other family backed out."

"Your father?" I hadn't seen him here, and surely I would have met him by now, "Where is he?"

She didn't answer but instead looked away, leaving us in an awkward silence. I surmised correctly that she didn't want to talk about it. Either he was dead/missing or had done something extremely humiliating the family. I didn't want to find out if she didn't want to talk about it. I think I geniunely liked Éowyn. She was the only person to really listen to me (except for Brannen).

I changed the topic: "Am I really going to live here?"

She smiled, "I would imagine so. Uncle has taken a genuine liking to you. He never had a daughter. He had always wanted a daughter like his wife."

"I'm like his wife?" I didn't know whether to be pleased or not so pleased.

"In a way, yes. The looks are not the same, but she had a hint of audacity."

I was rather worried at that bit. "Audacity?"

"Do not let it worry you," she said smiling.

There was a slight pause in the conversation. I began to wonder if Éowyn had any admirers.

"Do you have any admirers," I asked, "Do they fall at your feet and kiss your toes?"

She chuckled, "Yes, all too many. They are rather amusing to trick, however."

"Really?"

"I once convinced a young man that the only way I would love him would be if he serenaded me at dinner. 'Twas quite funny indeed as he is a frightful singer. I have never seen so many men burst into laughter at one time."

I snickered, "Is he still infatuated with you?"

She smiled in amusement, "Surprisingly, yes. He believes that I was so moved by his performance, and that I am secretly harboring feelings of affection toward him. But if getting them to sing is funny, it is even better getting them drunk." Her smile brightened as if remembering past memories.

"Why is that funny?" My most experience with overdrinking was Rourn who would sway and talk very loudly, and go to bed about ten minutes of staring blankly at the wall. Amusing, but not hilarious.

"They swagger about insisting upon declarations of love. They are quite easy to trip. And depending how much alcohol you give them, they have to be dragged to their rooms." She laughed lightly, and I joined her.

I looked down at the men still practicing archery and "long pointy stick" throwing, though some had broken away into pairs and were sword-fighting with wooden swords.

Éowyn sensed the quiet in the conversation and decided to point out the men she knew below.

"Ardeas, do you see that man at the target third to the left?"

I nodded. The man who was facing away from me so that I could not see his face had just hit the exact center of the target whenever my gaze fell on him.

"That is Prince Théodred, the King's son."

"Oh." I recognized Brannen next to Théodred. It looked like they were laughing at something along with five or six other men. She pointed them out to me.

It turned out most of the men down there were either sons of the King's advisors, sons of provincial lords, or the one who was the son of an ambassador from Gondor. A few of them were non-royal non-wealthy, but the only reason they were there was because of exceptional skills with either spears, bows and arrows, or with a sword. There were at least thirty, possibly forty all together down there practicing.

She pointed out the young man who had tried to serenade her. It appeared that the young man was a very good friend of Kirith, the son of the ambassador and Séthan, some distant provincial lord's son. The three were the only ones not practicing. Anden appeared to be writing something and Séthan and Kirith were advising him.

"'Tis probably another declaration of eternal love," Éowyn mused outloud, "I receive them nearly every day, the fool. If he'd just listen to me, instead of himself, he would understand that I care no more for him than I do for the Steward's son. He is, however, very insistand and very persistant, leaving me wearied at his foolish proclamations."

I only half listened. I was busy watching, trying to figure out what Théodred, Brannen, and the rest of their group were laughing at. I heard their voices but I couldn't discern what they were saying. I couldn't see anything that looked out of the ordinary. They were probably laughing at a story or a joke.

Brannen looked up at me where I was, and I didn't miss the start of surprise at me entirely cleaned up, looking much better.

He smiled broadly and waved at me. I guess I was forgiven for hurting his gut.

I smiled and waved back.

Théodred looked over at me upon seeing Brannen waving at me. He looked at me with puzzlement, as if deciding who I was and what I was doing. He was probably wondering what I was doing in Meduseld.

Brannen suggestively winked at me, and I'm glad I could tell he was joking.

I stuck out my tongue and made a face, which instantly broke when I laughed.

He waved again as if to say, Nice talking to you, and turned back to his companions.

I looked up at the sky again, not noticing Théodred was still looking at me with confusion plastered all over his face. Brannen said something to him, he nodded, as if understanding, but still looked puzzled.

I flicked lint off of my dress, now becoming bored. I wish I could do something to help out, now that I was living under the King's generosity.

(AN: I know this chapter was rather short, as my creative juices were running short at 1:30 AM. Reviews are always welcome, including suggestions to what should happen next. I like to know I'm pleasing at least someone other than myself at my writing. And as I've said before, I never write with an outline, so the plot can go anywhere, meaning, go right ahead and suggest anything. I'm also thinking of starting another Lord of the Rings story, so I'm open to suggestions about story ideas. I can generally write anything, though I try to steer clear of Mary-Sues (stories like: She is attractive. He is attractive. The look at each other, have sex, and with a few I-don't-think-you-love-me's along the way, they get married) and stories where violence is what the plot exists for.


	4. Chapter Four

A/N: Yes, I know nothing really wasn't accomplished last chapter. It was a transitional chapter and it gave a little more background to Ardeas, though important, was not a major plot turn. But at 1:30 AM, my body was beginning to shut down and I didn't have any creative juices.

Chapter IV

It was dark outside, but a light showed from the window of a small cottage on the plains of Rohan, set quite a distance away from a small village that was spotted with yellow lights. A woman's wail pierced the night air, echoing in the night. It was abruptly stifled by a convulsion.

Two women were in the one room cottage. One black haired woman lay on the bed while a brunette held her hand, kneeling next to her.

"Push, Adinel! Push! It's almost out!"

Adinel squeezed her eyes shut, and used her free hand to wipe away the the sweat droplets that had been forming on her forehead for the past six hours.

"It's out, Adinel! You did it!"

Adinel let out a sigh as she felt the baby leave her body. She was only too willing to have her body back to herself.

The other woman swooped down and picked up the baby with both hands. It was a relief to move her other arm as it had been supporting the head since it had first appeared. Taking a clean cloth, she wiped off all the blood and fluids that had decided to make an appearance along with the new life. It had been an easy birth, rather rare for women, especially for a woman's first birth. After a quick check, she came to the conclusion that the baby was a girl.

"May I hold it, Thera?"

"Her, Adinel. It's a she," Thera said smiling as she handed the baby back to her friend, "And she's almost a spitting image of you, albeit much smaller and drooling." She laughed, making light of the extreme pain her friend Adinel had just experienced.

Adinel took the baby and wrapped it in a blanket. She smiled at it. But when she spoke, her voice faltered, "Thera. She's not crying."

"She's not?" Thera asked, worried.

Adinel put her finger under the infants nose, "She's not breathing," her voice turned frantic, "Thera! My baby girl isn't breathing!"

Thera's mind searched for an answer. Her entire year of training as a midwife was important now. And she only had seconds to spare! What had her mother done? Her answer came like a thundershock five seconds later.

"Adinel, slap it!"

"My baby!"

"She'll cry!"

Adinel hesitated. How could she slap her baby? What if a nail caught on the cheek and cut her baby? The what ifs pounded in her brain. She trusted Thera, but _slapping_ her newborn baby? Thera, knowing that not breathing for a short time was almost certain death for newborn infants made a hurried gesture. Adinel didn't move. Thera snatched the baby from her arms and slapped its cheek, leaving a red mark. The baby began to wail in pain, forcing itself to take breaths to wail. Thera sighed in relief. Adinel was a little shocked but relieved. The last thing she wanted was her baby to die.

Adinel softly kissed her baby's forehead.

"What will you name her?" Thera asked a little expectantly.

"I'm not sure. Maybe something after the stars. What was the name of the she-Elf who came to Théoden's court?"

"Mîranna." jeweled gift 

"That sounds nice."

"But wouldn't you rather have a more, well, a more _real_ name?"

"Like what?"

"Well, what about Renéa. That's a nice name."

"I don't know. I'll think about it."

-

Adinel was born in 2982 the daughter of Lord Éodain, a member of Théoden King's court, her great-great-grandfather having been King Folcwine. She was his firstborn daughter, the jewel of the court with beauty that matched Théodwyn, sister of the King. But the pregnancy had been difficult and it left her mother weak for the rest of her life. The healers had said that if she had another child she would die. Thirteen months later, she was pregnant again. When the baby was born, Adinel's mother died fairly quickly, while the baby itself had been stillborn. Adinel was raised by her father growing into a strong, beautiful, but carefree woman. It had originally thought she would have been a smart match for Théodred, the King's son. But Adinel, though at first had taken his fancy, soon proved otherwise. He said later that he thought she was no good for him.

-

She stood trembling against the wall. She didn't like what was happening. She didn't want this to happen.

He reached out and caressed her face with his hand.

"You are so beautiful, my love."

Adinel felt like screaming for help, but who in Rohan would help her fight off the crown prince anyway? Maybe some sarcastic reminders of his behavior would make him go away... Or not. Empty threats were always good.

"Théodred, if you don't let me go, I'm going seriously affect your ability to father children." He pressed his body closer to hers, not allowing her knees to hurt him. :"Stop it, Théodred! I will not tolerate this."

"You will have to, Adinel," giving her a cheeky smile.

He was right, and they both knew it. For instance, he was a good four inches taller than her. Secondly, he had more muscle she could sneeze at, and thirdly, well, if she hurt the prince, (and then taking into mind that he _hadn't_ killer her for doing so) she would have to answer to the King. Very unpleasant.

Adinel brought her hands to his chest with the intent of pushing him away. He used on hand and seized both of hers.

"Get a grip, Théodred!" She forgot for a moment whom she was addressing. "You are such an idiot!"

"That was before this," he grinned. His other hand reached up to cup her face.

Adinel was Less than Impressed. "You are very funny, Highness," she said sarcastically. "Now get off of me, you... you...you idiot!" Who on Arda did he think he was, doing this to her?

"I am consumed by fire. I must have you!" He inched closer, his face a mere two inches away from hers.

"You are very poetic. I told you: please _go away_!"

He silenced her was a passionate kiss. She wouldn't deny it and say that he wasn't a devilishly good kisser, but after two hundred plus opportunities of practicing, of course it would feel good by now. She kept her mouth tightly closed and felt sick when his tongue tried to force its way into her mouth. The bile began to rise in her mouth, but she effectively swallowed it, leaving her throat burning, and very uncomfortable. _That stupid prince_! she thought.

He pulled back from the kiss, "Playing hard-to-get?"

"I am not playing anything. This certainly is not a game. It is real."

"Oh?" he arched a slick eyebrow.

"Because I think you are a sick person who has slept with more women than I could sneeze at! And I do not want anything to do with you, especially not that way. Now go away, or I will scream!"

Théodred was unfazed. "Nothing like a scream to liven things up. I'm afraid you are too good to lose so quickly." He pushed her against the wall for another sensuous kiss. Adinel also noticed her knees were free again. Foolish prince. He did not know with whom he was dealing. Adinel seriously considered bashing what he would consider the most important part of his physique, but decided not to since that if there was any permanent damage, King Théoden would never forgive her (no grandchildren, and the king would depend on Théodwyn's children).

Adinel pushed him away, "Just _what_ do you think you're doing!"

He gave one of his charming and boyish smiles, "Seducing you." The bile threatened to make its way back Adinel's throat.

"You are certainly not doing a good job."

"Maybe I should try harder," he said almost purring. Adinel would have laughed her head off at this performance if she had not been the one to whom these "affections" were directed. But now that she was the object of these attentions, she felt like retching all over his embroidered clothes.

His arm seperated her from escaping on both sides. She realized that the only way she was going to get out of this was to play along to some limit.

She leaned forward into his arms and kissed him. Exactly as she had expected he wrapped his arms around her, one hand going down further than her back. Not what she expected or wanted. She pulled back suddenly, taking one of his arms.

"I want to show you something," Adinel said suggestively.

He smiled, allowing her to lead as they walked down the hall to the door that stood at the end. She was walking toward her bedroom, which sat at the other side of the Golden Hall, letting him think that she was leading him toward it. She opened the doors to the main hall, stepping aside to allow him to go first. He smiled insinuatively and went first.

As soon as he was across the threshold into the main hall, Adinel swiftly slammed the doors and locked them. Théodred pounded on the doors.

"Adinel! What are you doing?"

"I let you through the door so you could leave. I really do not want anything to do with you. Now, Highness, please leave me alone, and I am sure you will find some very pretty village girl willing to be a wench, because it will not be me."

"Adinel! I love you!"

"Tell that to someone who cares, because _that _obviously is not me. Is there anyone else you find passively attractive because I will certainly find them for you, my prince," she finished harshly, "I am _not_, nor will be for a _very_ long while, interested in this kind of relationship! Especially with you!"

"Adinel! Open this door, or I will hurt you!"

"Do not resort to empty threats. You would not even dare. Besides, I can get my father's sword and chop pieces off of you that you would much rather keep."

"I really do love you though! I will do anything!"

"Really? Anything, your _Majesty_?" Adinel said with feigned excitement, seeing if he would see the sarcasm behind her voice.

"Yes!"

So much for that.

"Leave me ALONE for a year. Do not try to befriend me, as well. I would like no communications between you and I. At the _end_ of the year, I will consider a _friendship_ and _only_ a friendship with you, depending upon your behavior. If you talk with me at all, I will be forced to think of some consequences."

She could not punish him, not even if he raped her. He could beat the life out of her. But even though he would figure this out in time, she did not want to deal with it now.

"Fine."

"You answered too soon. Are you sure?"

"_Yes_. Now will you let me in?"

"I said 'no talking.' If you are not finished, you have my _esteemed_ permission to find some to whine to."

"No verbal abuse."

"I am _so_ sorry, your Highness. Now go away."

"You are not fair."

"They're my terms. Take them or leave them. And if you leave them, the last thing I will want to do is to get to know you."

He grumled a little bit. There was a pause until Adinel heard him stepping away from the door across the hall.

"Honestly! What on Arda was his problem! To think that I would fall for that whole love thing! He is so annoying sometimes!"

- two weeks later -

Adinel returned from the welcome feast weary and depressed.

The group of Gondorians that had arrived did not look very promising. In fact, they mostly looked like unrespectable gentlemen one would see in a tavern, not running about the halls of the Steward, worried about new attacks on the border.

Adinel relaxed in her room. As she stepped on the threshold, she heard a crackling sound, as one hears when paper is stepped upon.

She looked down and noticed a folded piece of parchment, sealed with a blank mark. She cut through the black wax and read the parchment.

_Dearest Adinel,_

_I cannot wait to see you again. I am ever astounded at your beauty._

_Cordially yours,_

The signature was unreadable. It looked an awful lot like Théodred's handwriting. Adinel was not pleased. She had suspected as much.

She just wanted to pound him!

She hurriedly scribbled a few lines of poetry, using many words about disappointment, and asked a servant to deliver it the the prince.

_Highness,_

_Disappointment and failure,_

_My thoughts of you, for sure,_

_Frustration and mistakes,_

_The only things to soothe the aches,_

_Sincerely,_

_Adinel_

- the next day -

Adinel sat quietly in the library reading an old tome about the history of Meduseld. The sun shone bright into the dusty old room, littered with rugs, carpets, and tapestries that decorated the walls. Book shelves stood to one side of the room while wooden tables and chairs stood on the other side. Adinel began to doze, a combination of the warm sun and the cushions on which she was resting.

She was startled out sleep when a shadow crossed the pane of sunlight next to her. She was fully awoken when somebody put their hands in front of her eyes.

"Guess who?" the voice of Théodred whispered with a chuckle.

"Hell⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪_⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪_⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪77777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪77777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777te with me! First that blasted note, and now this!"

"What note?" he asked, confused.

"The special little note last night about 'O How _beautiful_ I am' and 'O How I Cannot Wait To See You Again.'"

"I certainly did not write that. I only got _your_ note last night. And seeing how in the note, you were all about disappointment, I decided I could talk to you, because you obviously believed that I had communicated with you. I thought it would be acceptable to talk with you this morning."

"_You_ certainly did write that note! You broke your promise."

"I did nothing of the sort. You broke the no communication barrier first with your lines of poetry. It seems you could not wait for the year to end with your note."

"I only wrote the note because you broke the agreement first!" She felt agitated and exasperated at the same time.

"But, my lady, I did not write the note."

"I am _not _your lady. I have the note right here. The handwriting is very similar indeed." Adinel removed the note from her side pocket in the dress. "See for yourself, liar."

He glared at her at her parting comment, and snatched the note form her hands. He opened it and glanced down it. And to Adinel's consternation, smiled.

"I'm afraid you have caught the wrong man."

"What do you mean?"

"This, obviously, is not my handwriting. It is of Paerin, one of the men from the Gondorian envoy. I would not know the writing myself if he had not written some correspondence between my father and the Steward."

"You lie!"

His eyes flashed, "Believe me, Adinel, the _last_ thing you would want to do is enrage me, and you are reaching my limits. I told you that I _did not_ write the letter."

"Be angry," she spat, "I don't care about you."

His eyes darkened dangerously. "You do not want to see me angry, lady."

Adinel held his gaze. "Now if you will excuse me, Highness, I have better things to do."

And with that, she left the room, so completely furious that she was going to cry.

From that point on, she was going to do her very best to avoid that confounded prince. She did not want associate herself with liars and oathbreakers.

-

When Adinel turned sixteen, she fell in love with a young man visiting from Gondor, and as it turned out, he felt the same way. Their relationship, while he remained in Edoras, resulted in her fecundation. He refused to take responsibility, and he forced Adinel to never expose him. Her father was enraged as he noticed her abdomen begin to increase in size.

-

"How could you _do_ this to me? How could you bring this shame onto your family?"

Adinel remained silent, looking at the floor.

"Answer me!"

Adinel continued to find something interesting in the carpets of the floor of his study. She should not have fallen in love with _him_. She had been so utterly naïve to think that he was the one for her. She should have waited for those actions until he had given her a wedding band. But the mistake had been made and there was nothing she could do now to change it. It was here and it must be dealt with immediately. Adinel mentally smacked herself upside the head. How could she be so stupid to actually believe he was the one for her? How could she let him delude her that easily? Was she possibly that naïve?

"Who did this to you?"

Adinel remembered his threat, and decided to keep quiet. She knew he was capable of making the threat become reality, and that was not what she wanted. She remembered his harsh words. "So much for that tenderness," she thought. She should have known he was a sham from the start.

"Since you refuse to speak. you leave me little choice, Adinel."

_Here comes the punishment_, she thought, _I wonder what it will be. It _will_ be severe_.

"I wash my hands of you. You are no longer my daughter."

Adinel nearly reeled in surprise. She looked at her father, wondering if he was playing some sort of joke, because it certainly wasn't funny.

Her eyes peered into her father's downcast ones. _No, he is being entirely serious_.

Adinel did not remember how she kept her voice calm. Of course she had made a mistake! But to cut her off from everyone?

"I suppose I will pack, then. Farewell, my lord."

Adinel calmly turned on her heel and left the room.

-

Adinel left Edoras that night. She could not bear seeing the disapproving glances of the household, as well as being shunned permanently. She decided to go to the furthest village to avoid any recognitions. To spare herself more shame, she decided to concoct a story about her husband who had died, leaving her penniless, and forced to leave. It was in this village that she had met Aralen, an elderly old woman, who had taken her in, understanding the importance of staying healthy while pregnant. She never told Aralen about her past, and neither did Aralen seem interested. The villagers seemed suspicious of Adinel at first, but after a few months, she fit right in. Aralen died a month later, leaving the house to Adinel. One month after that, Thera, Adinel's good friend, left Edoras in search of her friend, finding her just prior to the birth of Ardeas.

-

I was feeling rather pleased with myself, mostly to do with my full stomach. It was a pleasing feeling, as most people would find a full stomach is. But my feeling to do something in payment for this hospitality overruled myself from a contented sigh leaving my body.

I opened my mouth to say something to Éowyn, when I noticed Prince Théodred was still staring at me.

I shut my mouth for second. I opened my mouth again, hesitantly, "Éowyn?"

"Yes?"

"Is that Prince Théodred looking at me?"

"Yes."

"Do you know why?"

"I do not know."

Great.

I was about to abruptly leave to let Théodred know that he was making me very uncomfortable when he unexpectedly looked away, laughing at whatever joke was being presented, though not laughing quite as freely as the others, I noticed.

Éowyn's voice interrupted my thoughts, "Would you like to see the library?"

The who?

I opened my mouth uncertainly, "Oh, that would be fine."

The only thing going through my head as we stood up was _What the heck is a library?_.

Éowyn led me back inside, though through a different door. We were back in another dark hall. Éowyn opened a door and passed through it; I followed, nearly tripping down the stairs, and holding the wall for support.

"Watch out for the steps."

A little too late, I would say.

After going down the stairs, she opened another door, and came to yet another hallway. However this hallway was full of sunlight, making me blink several times. She started down to the left. The first out of two doors on the left side of the hall was the one she opened. I stopped in shock as I stepped through the doorway.

I could only think of one word to describe it.

Beautiful.

There more books than I had ever thought existed. Rourn himself kept four books and I assumed, rather foolish I thought now, that those were the only books people kept. There must have been a few hundred volumes arranged tastefully along all of the walls (that I could see at least).

I had never learned to read or write, as Rourn wouldn't waste time on me, and Findulwyn could not. I opened Rourn's books once or twice when they were out, but I saw no point because I couldn't understand any of it. I had imitated some of the symbols used, but that was about it.

The room itself was shaped like two rectangles put together with one vertical over the other one, around the staircase. By taking twenty or so steps forward, one came upon the rectangle in the opposite direction. At the end of this section in the room was a window, high up from the floor I supposed so that light could come in.

I was rather startled to see a man sitting in the pane of light reading. The fool that I was, I expected the room to be empty. I mentally smacked myself with my hand. Of course other people would be here. This room was probably open to everyone in the Golden Hall.

The man was around forty or so. He had muscle, but the muscles were only developed to the point of being between fit and average. He seemed to be enjoying immensely what he was reading and I assumed he must read a lot, possibly explaining why he wasn't overly well-built. He looked about Éowyn's height, possibly six inches taller than me. He had a shock of red hair as well, something I thought unusual, but a nice change all the same from the dirty blonde, brown, and very occaisional black hair I had seen all day.

"Hello, Krane. Still reading?"

Krane looked up from his book, and seeing us smiled, but curiousity was plainly seen in his eyes when he saw me.

He carefully closed his book and set it on the table beside him before standing up and making his way toward us.

"Lady Éowyn," he said, giving a nod in her direction, "Is this a friend of yours?"

"Yes, Krane. This is Ardeas; she'll be staying with us for a while."

"Getting tired a male conversation?" he winked at her.

Éowyn gave an exaggerated long-suffering sigh, "Yes!" she said, using a lot of air.

He smiled at me, "How are you, Lady Ardeas?"

I liked him. I smiled back, "Just Ardeas, and I'm feeling fine."

"Shall I kiss your hand?"

Think cordiality. Think manners. Don't shout out 'no.' "If you like, though I would prefer not."

He chuckled, "Excellent, because I hate kissing hands."

I grinned back at him.

"So," he said trying to strike up a conversation, "What brings you to the library?"

"Oh, Éowyn was just giving me a tour."

"Do you like to read?"

Uh... Awkward situation. I cannot read. Not good. Quick! Think of something! "Not really."

"That is too bad. Women should read more. Rather than swing swords against their uncle's will..." he trailed off insinuatively at Éowyn.

Éowyn flushed scarlet before giving a retort.

"Do not remind him or..." she said threateningly, though there was a playful flash in her eyes.

"Yes, yes, yes, I know. You have used this threat on me before. You will make _sure_ I never have children."

I didn't know what they were talking about. What did he mean 'so that he couldn't have children'? I had a big feeling it was something I should know, but I did not. I could tell he meant it to be funny, so in order to let them believe I knew exactly what they were talking about, I giggled.

Both of them joined me in light laughter, which meant I had done the right thing. Thank whoever controlled these things.

Éowyn and Krane chatted for a few minutes, and I noticed she gave subtle hints of how my whereabouts came to be here.

I pretended to be interested in a volume to the right and made a beeline toward it, flipping through it, hoping for some pictures. None. I replaced it, taking out the one next to it.

Éowyn and Krane chatted for a few moments while I continued to browse the library, glancing at books. Nothing really interesting. Mostly handwriting. Mostly very old.

When I took one book out, all of the pages fell out of the binding. I hastily gathered them up before Éowyn or Krane noticed. I stuffed the book back onto the shelf and was demurely picking out another when they glanced at me from the commotion. I felt there stares and looked back at them, eyebrows raised asking them what they were doing. No answer. They turned back into their conversation.

I replaced the book and seated myself in the chair that Krane had recently vacated. When was dinner? Not that I was hungry. Just bored. I closed my eyes and dozed.

Éowyn was shaking me gently when my eyes opened again.

"You have had plenty of free time. You should be introduced to the courtiers, who will be less than pleased at your appearance."

I grumbled a bit. Who would really want to meet somebody stuck-up? I had been having a good dream too. The same one I had been dreaming when Findulwyn woke me up this morning.

I was at the creek, watching my reflection, drying my hair on the heather sweet grass. I saw something in the reflection of the water. It was a young man, maybe twenty or so. He wasn't particularly handsome or well-built, but he was smiling kindly. And he had offered me food and drink and I had never felt so full in my life. I sighed in contentment.

Krane picked up his book and waved goodbye as he retreated to the chair again. Éowyn led me back into the hall, up the dark stairs, and into the corridor which wasn't incredibly bright. We walked down the corridor a ways before coming back to the two double doors I had come through from the hall before my (ever so glorious) bath.

We opened the doors, and there was Théoden King, sitting on a throne surrounded by a bunch of nobles. I noticed his cloak that he had let me borrow was next to him, apparently returned by Éowyn.

He looked up from their hushed tones, and when he saw me cleaned up and fresh, he smiled brightly. But even at this distance, I saw something flicker across his eyes. _What could it be?_ But as soon as it came, it was gone1. I dismissed it. It probably wasn't important if it didn't last. With the wave of his hand, he dismissed his advisors or whoever they were.

Éowyn sighed, apparently annoyed at not being able to get the introductions over with.

"Ardeas! How are you, my dear? You are beautiful indeed looking like that."

I beamed.

"I am very happy to be clean, my lord."

"I would imagine so. But I have been worse off than you. You would not believe what skirmishes can do to your outward appearances."

I laughed as Éowyn and I approached. I nearly tripped over the hearth in the middle of the room before neatly sidestepping it.

I liked Théoden a lot. He was already becoming like a father to me. I decided to let all my cute little girl emotions come to the surface so I ran to him and threw my arms around his neck in a hug, throwing propriety into the breeze.

Éowyn, I could tell rather than see, nearly fainted, mostly from the gasp I heard. But I knew he didn't mind, because Théoden had his arms around me, and he was laughing. I pulled back, smiling. He stood and gently kissed my forehead before smiling paternally down at me.

He grinned at me, "You will have fun trying to fight them all off of you at dinner." He winked at me.

_Off of me?_ What?

"Uncle! You should not scare her," Éowyn burst in.

I laughed, trying to hide the confusion, "He is not scaring me." I embraced him again, taking the time to remember his scent. He smelt of old leather and pipesmoke. It was a comforting kind of smell. I wished I would have known him a long time ago. He was like the father and/or grandfather I never had. He embraced me back.

"You must be careful little one, or you will break me in half from embracing me too much."

"Impossible," I teased.

He gave that paternal smile that he was so good at again, before carefully extricating myself from me.

"You make me feel young," he whispered.

I looked up, all the cute little girl feelings still strong, "I do?"

He nodded, still smiling. I could see what else he had to see in his eyes. _Like the daughter I never had_. I thought that was pretty awesome considering I had only known him less than a day. But this morning seemed light ages ago. That was the old life. Raugwen had died this morning, and Ardeas had been born. The girl that never was. I was a new person. And that felt good. If everyday as Ardeas felt like this, I was going to be perfectly wonderfully fine.

I liked Théoden a lot.

Wait. Edit that. I love Théoden a lot. Just like any daughter loves her father.

"What do you plan on doing between now and dinner?"

"I don't know... I-" but Éowyn cut me off.

"I was taking her around to introduce to people. We were heading toward the advisors and the courtiers and probably all those confounded boys who have nothing better to do than increase the size of their muscles."

For no reason in particular, I stepped down from his chair, closer to Éowyn.

"Yes, I suppose that must be done. We do not want any of them whispering gossip to each other when Ardeas comes to dinner. The men are about just as bad as the women are about rumors." He chuckled ruefully, "Even those courtesans that hang around this place." He grrinned at me, "They will be angry at the competion."

"Competition for what?" I asked innocently, and the innocence was not faked a bit.

Théoden simply raised a bushy eyebrow. "You will see, child."

He gave me another fatherly smile, "But I guess you should go with my niece and meet those blasted courtiers and my advisors and all of those, in Éowyn's words, confounded men down there practicing." He yawned. "I am in much need of a nap, Éowyn. Have someone wake me for dinner." He walked away toward the side of the hall, into the shadows.

"Yes, Uncle. I will."

Éowyn led me to another corridor off the main hallway, down some more stairs (again, I found out it was a staircase before she told me, nearly breaking my neck doing so), and down into another corridor on the other side of the building. She pointed out a door (behind a tapestry) that led down a narrow passage to a bookcase in the library. By means of pushing the bookcase open, you could get into the library from this hall. Very ingenious I thought. Most of the rooms were bedrooms. There were a heck of a lot of bedrooms.

At the far end of the hall on the left was a large space with only one door.

"That's the room where the courtiers sit around on their lazy backsides all day. They have nothing better to do than argue and titter."

She strode quickly to the door, thrusting it open and shoving me inside, quickly following me after.

The talking in this room stopped abruptly at my entrance that was quickly followed by Éowyn. There were at least a good sixty people ranging from early twenties to late sixties. The younger ones were mingling and whispering while the older ones, mainly the men, clung to the walls, and the air aroun⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪ women, especially for a woman's first birth. After a quick check, she came to the conclusion that the baby was a girl.

"May I⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪⨪ "Thera. She's not crying."

"She's not?" Thera asked, worried.

Adinel put her finger under the infants nose, "She's not breatnd looked at me. One in particular, a gray-haired man in his fifties, had eyes that widened and a mouth that opened slightly at the sight of me. When he saw me turn and look at him, he gave a start and his eyes widened more. But he quickly closed his mouth and stared at his pipe, examining it. I wondered what was going on. Éowyn stood protectively behind me, and I was glad she was, because one of the Théodred-girls was approaching me. She was three inches taller than me and she was wearing a richly embroidered red gown, matching rings, and a smile that would make a child scream hysterically in fear.

"Why hello, Lady Éowyn. How _are_ you? And _who_ is this new friend you have brought?"

I felt bile rising in my throat. I wondered how many people upon which she had this effect.

"Perfectly well, Mortelia" was Éowyn's terse reply. She didn't sound happy about talking to this woman, "This is Ardeas. She lost both of her parents and will be staying her for quite some time."

"A spectator?" was Mortelia's slightly nasty reply.

"A _guest_. Probably permanently."

"Since when has Théoden King started adopting orphans?" She said the word orphans like on might describe a particularly nasty cockroach.

"Today, and only Ardeas."

"That is a good thing indeed. We wouldn't want too many unnoble bloods running around these halls. Especially orphans." She turned to me and gave that smile that she was so good at doing, "Tell me, child. What do you think of me?"

I felt like wringing that pretty little neck. Her eyes said to say she was pretty or had nice hair. I say if she _asked_ for what I had to say about her, then honesty was the way to go. How stupid did you have to be to insult somebody and then ask them about their feelings for you?

"You make me want to vomit. We have not been talking for five minutes, and I already want to pound that high-bred head of yours down to your stomach. With an attitude like yours, you deserve to be working as a servant."

That made her blow up. I smiled at her reaction of pure anger. She probably was not frequently treated like this. I made a private decision to let her have it more often. I could teach her a lesson. She would learn to not make fun of me. This was going to be fun.

"How dare garbage like you have the benefit of breath?" she screeched.

"Because others like yourself do not deserve it," I said, warming up.

"You harlot! I bet your mother was a whore!"

That stung me. That was the straw that broke my horse's back; that was the plague. I was going to kill her if she continued on this path. You can insult me, but you don't insult my family, even if I don't know them. To call anyone's mother a whore is about the worst you can do insulting them, and even if their mother really was a harlot, does not mean you should degrade them for a problem in their life that was not their fault. Findulwyn had called me and my mother a whore quite frequently. I did not really know what it was, but I knew it was bad.

"I hope you die slowly. I bet the only reason you're calling my mother a whore was because you and/or your mother are whores! Are you even a woman? Because I have only known a man with a temper like yours."

The men in the room abrupted in applause. I didn't even know they were listening in.

"How dare you insult me, you pathetic piece of filth? How dare you touch me? I would never touch a piece of human waste such as yourself!"

"Good! Because then I can twist your arm until it breaks and the most you'll do is scream at me."

"You miserable wretch. We are leaving."

And with that, Mortelia and her group of Théodred lovers left the group, followed in seconds by the group of girls hanging around the portrait of Éomer. I had a nasty feeling I would be knee-deep in problems by the time they were finished with me.

-

Author's Note:

This chapter has been majorly revised so if a few reviews don't make sense, you can guess that I changed that part of the chapter. I had originally had Théodred be somewhat of a skirt-chaser, but it wasn't very canon (Tolkien, who was a devout Catholic, would not have had sex before marriage, or slash for that matter in his writing), especially for a crown prince so I revised it out that it was unlikely Théodred and Adinel would marry because she was too headstrong. So, Tolkien characters will not be doing anything unTolkien in this chapter.

(1No, no, no, and NO! It is _not_ attraction. It is recognition. As in, Ardeas reminds him of someone. And it doesn't take Einstein to figure out who.)


	5. Chapter Five

A/N: I hate authors' notes, including mine. They take up space that could be used for substance in the story. But I need to stress this fact: I LOVE reviews. (good or bad, but if bad, please have a reason like "you're writing is unclear, your characters are improbable, and you copied this entire story from on fanfiction" -not that I did, but you get the picture. Opinionated reasons are usually bad reviews. Now if it was a story technique used over and over and over :cough cough, MS cough cough: then that wouldn't necessarily be a bad review by saying that my writing is unoriginal). Yes, and there is one swear word in this chapter.

Disclaimer: Do we really need these?

Apologies: I apologize for a few word incorrections in my first and second chapter. As soon as possible, I will begin to edit those and correct them.

Chapter V

I felt like flicking that brat off as she left, but if she saw, things might have gotten really ugly. Éowyn squeezed my shoulder from behind and whispered in my ear:

"There are plenty of people who hate Mortelia and her friends' guts. I'm glad you've joined the club, though I must say, there are only a few who can whip her butt verbally."

"Thanks." I said turning around, smiling, "I just did what anyone would have done if she accused their mother of being a whore."

"She usually doesn't turn on visitors like that. Unless she thinks they're competition."

"For what?"

"The Prince."

"Oh. How on earth could she think that?" I'm fourteen! I don't even look much older than that!" For Elbereth's sake he must be in his mid-thirties! That's a uh... uh... twenty year age difference! _He's old enough to be my father!_

"That's what I thought. Maybe she's jealous of something."

"Such as?" As if there could be anything. That girl had everything, including beauty. I was a skinny little girl at best.

"You're beautiful, Ardeas, and you know it. Maybe that's why Théodred was staring at you."

I looked down incredulously. The last thing I was was beautiful. I am skin and bones. Besides, I wouldn't want to be beautiful. Beauty attracts attention, "I'm not really beautiful. I'm just skin and bones."

"Nonsense. And anyway, I think you've found an admirer."

_What?_

"Excuse me?" At this rate I was going to be sick.

"Look behind you. Very discreetly."

I did. Very discreetly if I do say so myself. And sure enough. There was a man, mid-forties, staring me, running his eyes up and down. I felt like throwing up again. For Elbereth's sake! I was TEN-AND-FOUR YEARS! What kind of perveted people were they? I felt like screaming, _What on earth is wrong with you?_ Lust is bad news. I quickly swallowed the bile that was threatening to rise into my mouth and out of it. It stung against the back of my throat as it went down.

"Can we leave now?" I was feeling awkward. I didn't want to meet more nobles if most of them were like Mortelia. Not that I couldn't have taken them on, but it was rather draining and I don't think I would have had it in me to take on another fifty or so people.

"Not quite yet. We don't want them gossiping at dinner."

"They all eat at the same time?"

"Yes, everyone eats at the same time."

Éowyn stepped to the center of the room, "Everyone!" she said in a slightly commanding voice. The heads in the room turned, "I would like everyone to know the Lady Ardeas. She will be living with us in Meduseld for quite some time."

I curtsied, and my knee cracked. I swear it was so loud they heard it.

There were a few murmured how-do-you-do's and wonderful-to-meet-you's that people said, but within ten seconds everyone returned to their previous gabbing, smoking, or leaning against the wall. I noticed the grey-haired mid-fifties man who had been watching earlier was scrutinizing me again, as if that Éowyn had lied and I really wasn't Ardeas. His eyes narrowed when he looked at my face. I shifted uncomfortably under his eyes. At least he wasn't looking at me at the lustful kind of way of that other sick, sick man.

I made a beeline for the door. Enough with these priggish royals. Some of the Rohirrim people were beginning to slightly freak me out.

I breathed a silent sigh of relief in the hallway. It was slightly before the middle of the afternoon. Quite a long time before the final meal of the day (or so I thought). What to do?

"So," Éowyn said casually, "Is there anything in particular that you would want to do?"

Fine question. As if I really knew anything. But I couldn't really get mad at her when she had been so kind to me this whole day. Then I remembered something.

"What did Krane mean about 'swinging swords against your uncle's will'?"

Éowyn's face colored a beautiful crimson.

"I, uh, well, I sort of taught myself how to wield a sword by watching my brother and my cousin. Technically, I'm not supposed to know those sort of things. As I said before, I'm mainly here to look pretty, manage some things around the household, and then get married."

"Could you teach me something? I don't want to be totally worthless around here."

"You wouldn't be a drag if you sat around all day." She shook her head quickly causing her golden hair to shake majestically. "As long as you don't make Uncle hate you, which would be pretty hard in your case, I'm sure you could stay here as long as you want. But even if I did teach you how to fight, I'm afraid it wouldn't help you much. Mostly because if you told anybody that _I_ taught you, I'll kill you." She smiled to let me know she was being slightly sarcastic.

I didn't make a comment non-verbally or speaking. I'm sure Éowyn would find it very easy to kill me if she wanted to. Better to make friends with people who could harm you and make enemies with people who can't, such as Mortelia.

"But Uncle wouldn't let you fight anyway. He was slightly angry when I told him I could fight, but he relented just as long as I didn't start teaching other girls or went against his will about going out to patrol the borders."

"I think it would be good to give me something to do."

"Yes, you will need something to do. My tasks are so menial I usually end up practicing sword fighing or helping the servants, when they let me. I tried one day of lounging about in that room and I nearly killed myself after about one and a half hours. It's all they do: talk talk talk. They couldn't give a shit about what happens in Rohan, just as long as they get they're free meals and free clothes. And if they're not insinuating that Théoden is doing a horrible job and that they can do better, the girls are extolling the features of Théodred and my brother over and over to the point where I wonder if I've ventured into the land of the truly insane. I honestly don't know why Uncle just doesn't make them leave, even _he_ doesn't like them, but I suppose he does feel a small degree of pity for them. I don't know how he does it."

I smiled at this. Théoden King was growing more likeable by the moment. At least he disliked those, for the most part, spineless nobles. I wished he was my grandfather.

I was interrupted by my thoughts by Éowyn.

"Do you want to learn how to, in your words, 'swing a sword'? Because I must warn you, it isn't easy. It's time consuming, and there's a lot of things you need to get just right in order to not form bad habits. Sword fighting isn't just something you do to pass the time, it really is a commitment. Do you want me to teach you?"

I nodded. Yes. I am sure.

"Okay then. Do you swear on everything that you will not say anything about this to anyone?"

"Yes," I said, ever so slightly annoyed. If I was going to, in her words, 'make a commitment' that of which men, blasted gender, would most likely disapprove, _I_ was going to keep it a secret.

--

As it later turned out, there wasn't any time for any sword lessons today, much to my disappointment. Apparently, with it being sometime in the late afternoon, almost evening, we needed to get ready for dinner. This was a new concept to me altogether. Who gave a crap how you looked when you ate? I mean, I couldn't see anything wrong with the way we looked now! Some royal custom and/or edict. Éowyn ought to do something about it.

Since Éowyn had not bathed earlier, she had to take a bath as well. Since I had never done anything like getting ready for dinner before, I decided to sit around in her bedroom, waiting for her to finish.

The sheets, which were the most luxurious things I had ever seen, were a beautiful starched completely pure white. It was quite obvious nothing had soiled them. The pillows were a new concept altogether. People actually used such fluffy things for their head. I laid back on the bed to test it; Éowyn had mentioned shortly after we left Mortelia that I would be sleeping in a guest room tonight, presumably with a bed. The bed was heavenly, but not quite what I was used to. It was so comfortable to the point where I couldn't really stand it after a minute or so. I moved from the bed to the floor carpets and felt much better. I was going to have to get used to these comforts. I wondered if people actually took these for granted.

Éowyn walked in from the bathing chamber at that moment while I was on the floor, my hair sprayed up behind my head. I must have looked quite ridiculous.

"Ardeas! You'll wrinkle your dress like that!"

Crap. This wasn't my dress.

I hastily stood up, trying to smooth the wrinkles out the best I could. This dress might be worth something. Maybe I had ruined it. Uh oh...

She saw the look in my eye and just smiled, making me relax slightly.

"Now come: we'll have to do your hair."

"But I like my hair the way it is!" I protested.

She didn't reply but almost forcefully moved me toward the bathing room.

The room was still slightly steamy as she sat me down at the table again. I noticed that she smelled different. She smelled like roses. Maybe she had used a perfume.

The looking glass was slightly fogged from the steam and as she progressed with my hair. She was trying the previous hairstyle that had been blown out by the wind the last time. I noticed she pulled harder at my hair.

"Ouch!"

"Sorry."

By the time my hair was finished, the fog had all but entirely dissipated from the room. Éowyn opened a wooden bowl to my right scooping out some white powder. I had a feeling that was going on my face. She patted some of it on my face, but my nose didn't like it.

I sneezed right into Éowyn had as it was about to pat my other cheek with the powder. I sneezed again. And again. I kept sneezing until finally Éowyn used a damp cloth to wipe the powder off of my cheeks.

"Hmm... That' never happened before." She said, "I wonder what's wrong."

"Just don't put it on. You'll make me sneeze through dinner."

"I think you look better without it on anyway."

"Good," I said, hoping she wouldn't put anything else on me. But Éowyn was not to be beaten so easily. She reached for a bottle filled with a red tinted liquid. She took off the cap, flipped it over with her finger over the top, flipped and flipped it back. Some of the liquid remained on her index finger and put touched both of my cheeks with the finger.

"There. Now you'll smell like roses."

Wow. Roses. Every girls dream. I found roses to be delicious. (A/N: Actually there is a recipe for rose petals with sugar and egg yolk and rose flavored Turkish delight is delicious.)

I still looked fabulous, even with hair I didn't really like.

Éowyn smiled. "They'll be staring at you before you sit down." There was a pause before she continued. "A real lady."

"Not quite," I answered, "A few more years and I _might_ say yes."

She swatted me on the arm with a smile. "You're a lady, now and always."

'Lady' sounded very grown up. It made me feel special. But then again, aren't ladies the ones who have to sit around and look pretty? I banished that thought at once. Even if that was true, Éowyn was trying to be nice and I didn't want to ruin the moment.

"Even if a grow seventy worts across my face, lose my arm, and go blind in one eye?" I said laughing.

Éowyn chuckled, but resumed a smile and said with all sincerity, "Yes. A lady even then."

A/N: I know it's not really an important chapter except for the last part, but it needs to go in anyway. The next chapter is obviously going to be dinner in the Golden Hall. The more reviews I get, the more inspired I'll be for the next chapter so keep saying its wonderful or it sucks. I'm currently writing a parody about Mary-Sues. I'm unsure of when or if I'm going to post it. REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW!


	6. Chapter Six

I'm so sorry this took a long time to get onto , but school has been trying, by eldest brother (ten years my senior) and my dad are going ballistic because "I am not communicating." Give me a break. I am in that very nice rebellious teenager stage. Parents and related adults are no-no's. I just want everyone to give a big round of applause to GreyLadyBast who is now my beta reader. And my story, which sadly already needs a major revision, has been graciously placed under her control in that aspect. So thank you very much, GreyLadyBast and nightstar13 for reviewing and everyone else who wrote that my story sucked, rocked, or was in the middle.

Chapter VI

I didn't know why we bothered with the hair make-up thing because Éowyn was wearing a different dress, and I naturally assumed I was going to have to change my dress. The dress had been somewhat difficult this morning with several buttons in the back, but I had managed before being berated for drying my hair the way I had been.

"Am I going to have to change this dress?"

"Yes. It is a foolish practice, but women have to do it or are considered terribly rude. There are many times when I just want to pound their self-righteous heads. And you would be surprised at how easy that would be."

I stood up, preparing for the unbuttoning of my dress. I started to ask Éowyn to turn around, but she just smiled and quickly left the room to her bed chamber, closing the door softly behind her.

There were several dresses she had already laid out for me on the chair. I picked the one with the highest neckline. After all, I wouldn't be comfortable. Showing that much skin might result in a cold. I had always hated colds anyway. Nasty dratted things that came too early and stayed too late and made me sniff like crazy.

The dress was white, long sleeved, and the neckline came to the base of my neck. The buttons on the back were slightly more complicated than the green dress, but it didn't bother me much. In the looking glass, I did have to admit with my black hair up, I did look very good. I was just a little over five feet tall, with still more to grow (I had grown bit by bit my entire life and I hadn't shown any signs of stopping recently).

Éowyn knocked on the door. "Are you finished, Ardeas?"

One last look in the mirror. "Yes." I turned over my shoulder, "Yes, I'm finished."

I glanced down my front, smoothing out any wrinkles and calmly walked to the door.

I opened it to see Éowyn sitting on her bed, finishing a small braid. I noticed she already had another braid on her left side.

She turned to see me and smiled. "You look wonderful. You'll have all of them looking twice tonight."

I made a mock-curtsy, "Thank you."

She laughed. "Come. We have to be at dinner on time."

The single window at the end of the hall showed signs of an hour or so before sunset. The sunlight streamed through the window making a golden shape on the floor. Such simple beauty.

To my surprise, I found Éowyn opening the doors to the Golden Hall. I chastised myself. I should have known. They didn't have another giant hall for an eating area. They must set up tables here at mealtimes.

There were several tables and benches set up around the room. I noticed that most of the nobles were already here, including most of the men whom Éowyn and I had seen practicing this afternoon. All of them stood at places behind the benches, waiting to sit down. When Éowyn entered, all of them bowed slightly or if they were female, curtsied with a slight bob of the head. Everyone looked especially nice, even Mortelia who was fuming when she saw me. Her friends seemed "slightly" picqued as well. If eyes could sear through you like a knife, they would have shredded me to ribbons. The Éomer group looked at me as if I was some kind of strange and dangerous insect that needed to be squashed. The man who had been smoking his pipe and watching me before looked at me again. He tilted his head slightly as if still questioning something about me. Théodred took one glance at me, but quickly turned away when he saw me watching him. Puzzling behaviour those two.

I didn't have time to think about their behaviour much. I shouldn't care anyway. I had the King on my side if I was innocent; I hadn't done anything wrong, so I was not guilty about whatever they thought I was or had done. Either way, those stares/glances still confused me.

Éowyn led me toward the head of a long table near the center of the room, closest to the throne. I noticed I was sitting in between Éomer, who smiled at me as I stood next to him, and Éowyn. I supposed that normally they sat side by side but for tonight at least, I was to sit between them to avoid the awkwardness of sitting next to a stranger. Something nice that small was rather touching. Théodred stood across from me to my left. His seat was right next to the head of the table. I assumed that Théoden was sitting at the head, being King of the Mark and all. And then it hit me why we were all standing up. The King hadn't arrived. I didn't know of this custom. Some sign of respect I suppose.

A door opened and Théoden walked briskly to the head of the table. We all stood in reverent silence. Théoden mumbled something under his breath as if his mind were elsewhere. He looked down the table at all of us, and then moved his hands to show us that we could sit down. We all did and the room exploded with speech as servants came up with plates heaped with food, serving first the King and then so on down the table before moving to other tables. I looked down at my plate as a young girl scarcely older than me set a plate with meat and vegetables down in front of me. I turned around and said, "Thank you," really meaning it. The times with Rourn and Findulwyn when they had told me to say thank you I had did it in order to eat the food they had given me. Now I truly meant it. The maid gave a hint of a smile but schooled her figures back to a neutral expression before moving down the row.

I turned back to my food which looked far better than I had ever done.

I was starving, believe it or not, and the food looked so good. I was about to stuff my face when I saw in the corner of my eye Éowyn making frantic eye motions to watch how she ate her food so I didn't make a fool of myself. She used a knife besides her plate and her index finger to cut up the meat into bite sized portions. She did the same to the vegetables.

Haha. What a joke. But I did it anyway. Éowyn might change her mind about the sword-fighting thing. And if it wasn't for those, I might end up dying of boredom.

I imitated her actions with my knife but it was rather difficult. I looked over at Éomer who was doing the same process but slightly more messily. Something about masculinity I suppose. Rourn did that too. What is it with men? Do they have to be messy or it impugns upon their maleness?

The food, unquestionably, turned out to be delicious. I felt very pleased recognizing some of the kinds of vegetables that I had grown in the garden.

Much to my delight, I found Krane sitting a few seats down across from me but still in speaking range. He seemed very pleased to see me here.

The food and the chatting lasted for several minutes, while I got my first taste of wine.

I was surprised. Rourn had had a flask of liquor that he carried around once in while. I had sneaked a taste once, and it was atrocious. The wine tasted somewhat fruity. And there were other flavors in it that I couldn't not describe.

A hand on my mine as I reached up to take another sip silently warned me not too. I looked up questioningly at Éowyn. A quick shake of the head. I put my glass down. She returned to eating her food, as I did mine.

Conversation was rare, as Théodred not-so-subtly ignored me, Éomer spoke to his uncle, and Éowyn talked excitedly to her friends down the table.

It seemed that as soon as I had finished one plate, the servants brought in another and I was compeled to eat this dish as well.

By the end of the third dish, I felt sick. The food weighed down my tongue and I was finding it difficult to swallow without choking. I turned toward the door to the kitchens, hoping that a maid wasn't carrying another dish for me.

I looked at Éowyn's plate of food, it was only her second, and by the looks of it, she had barely touched it. Just looking at it made me feel quite ill. I felt the bile rise in my throat, but I hurriedly swallowed it. I reminded myself about how embarrassing it would be to throw up. I wouldn't let it happen, I wouldn't let it happen.

I closed my eyes, just breathing. I opened my eyes just in time to see a maid carrying another plate, heaped with meat and vegetables, making a beeline for me.

_I could just not eat it_, I thought. But wouldn't that be ungracious? Afterall, I could be back _there_ eating a handful of stale bread and dried meat.

The maid removed my empty plate and set down the steaming food in front of me.

My breathing came rather shallowly as I picked up my spoon. I felt that I had to eat it.

"Are all right milady?" Krane asked tentatively.

I didn't even bother to correct him about my annoyance at the title. I nodded quickly, looking into his eyes to assure him. He gave me a slightly puzzled look, but turned back to his previous conversation.

I took one spoonful of a steamy vegetable and put the spoon in my mouth, sliding the spoon out carefully and beginning to chew. It was a struggle to swallow, but I did it, and I realized all to late that was a mistake. My stomach couldn't take it.

I mumbled something incoherent to Éowyn who had taken up a cautious interest in me at Krane's inquiry. I got up and abruptly turned, hoping to make it into the bathing room I had been in previously before I vomited.

I started stumbling away from the table, and I didn't hear Éowyn's and Théoden's queries.

I didn't get far. I bent down five feet from the table and heaved my heart out. The vomit stung my throat and burned my mouth. I clutched my abdomen and rocked back and forth on my knees. I had never eaten so much in my life. _Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid._ I felt so stupid. Only I could have done something like that. Of course Théoden wouldn't have thought me ungrateful by not eating the fourth plate. My Assertive Side was kicking my Nervous Side across the room.

My hearing kicked back into gear for a few seconds enough to hear a few snide remarks as well as Mortelia's laughing. I could almost see the tears streaming down her face as she laughed. In fact the only thing I could see was my vomit. The smell invaded my nostrils with such a powerful scent I'm sure everyone would have agreed that the only sensible thing I could have done at that moment was to pass out. Which was exactly what I did.

--

I don't remember collapsing into my own retch, but that's what Éowyn said I had done. And I do not remember a very reluctant Théodred carrying me to the bathing room for Éowyn to clean me up. And I most certainly do not remember the entire room exploding in laughter after they had thought Théodred and Éowyn were far enough down the hall and out of hearing range.

I became conscious again after about twenty minutes, but promptly fell asleep as I found I was in a bed with someone rubbing a cool cloth on my forehead.

I awoke the next morning around dawn, and I was surprised to find Éowyn sitting in a chair next to the bed, reading.

She smiled when she saw me awake.

"Rather stupid of me, wasn't it?" I said, grinning slightly at last night's mistake.

"T'was not your fault," she answered kindly, but continued with a more puzzled expression, "But I don't see why you just didn't eat what you didn't want to."

I looked down at the coverlet, rather embarrassed now. I had been very foolish, and I was loath to admit it.

"I thought I would be rude to not eat what was given to me."

"There is a limit, you know, of how much you should eat and how much anyone expects you to."

"I know that now. But they just kept giving me more."

"That had me wondering as well. The kitchen staff never does that to anyone. Usually they will serve on plate, and if you want more, you say so. I noticed you never did."

"No, I never did ask for more, but it was still my fault for overeating." Ardeas felt a blush tinging her cheeks, "I've never been more embarrassed in my life."

Éowyn laughed lightly, "Believe me, child, I've done worse in front of all the nobles."

"Really?"

Éowyn smiled wistfully, as if remembering some past mild act of mayhem, and then nodded. "But those tales are for another time. For now, you should sleep. You had a slight fever last night."

"Did you sleep at all?"

"I drowsed for an hour or so, but you should not worry about me. I've gone without sleep many times before."

I felt too tired to argue, and I soon slipped down onto the bed, sinking into the comforting black oblivion of sleep.

A/N: rather short... i hope i did improve in my writing especially during the last half of the chapter. you can say thanks to robert cormier for that. i just finished _the chocolate war_, a VERY very good book summed up by this quote "Do I dare change the universe?" and even though the title reminds me of willie wonka, it's actually on the list of 100 books to read before college. i am going back and revising all of my chapters so far with the help of my beta reader (3 cheers for greyladybast) and a friend lady angelica whom i actually know off of ok, it is 11:35 PM on a school night, and tho that isn't very late, i am _very_ tired. review, review, review and remember i am always open to plot suggestions since i never write with an outline.

PS

Lady Angelica and I have revised the first two chapters, with GreyLadyBast to do the fine tuning if she wants to. They are changed in that Éowyn sounds more like the real Éowyn in the books (not exactly, but more real). I will be working on the third chapter soon.

Just an explanation before I get a whole bunch of reviews saying that Rohirrim used forks. I must point out that in Medieval times, which is the era in which Rohan is, they used daggers to cut up their meat and spoons for soup. No forks. If they didn't want to stick a dagger in their mouth they used their fingers. If they did use silverware, forgive me. I haven't gotten to _The Two Towers_ in my yearly readings of _The Lord of the Rings_, and I don't remember details like that from previous readings. Correct me if I'm wrong.

I had originally been planning a fanfic about Boromir's childhood and I have part of the first chapter done, but I have been bogged down by school and several other stories that I have started (one about a retirement community murder mystery and a school shooting).


	7. Chapter Seven

Chapter VII

I woke an hour later, dawn's light reaching across the floor like a white finger. I stretched and noticed Éowyn had gone. I did not blame her. She needed rest.

I slipped out of the bed, hoping someone had left a dress for me. I found a plain maroon dress, and I lifted the dress to smell its clean smell, I dropped it. My hands had been no doubt washed, but they still smelled putrid. My face smelled putrid. I would need another bath in order not to make everyone else sick.

I decided not to put on that dress. I didn't want to make a lot of extra work for someone else.

---

I finally received a bath, doing some improvisation on my part on where the water was. The cool water was rather refreshing, if a little cold early in the morning.

Thankfully, I encountered no one in the hall and was able to find my way back from where I had come. I found the maroon dress again, and I had just put it on when there was a knock on the door. Pushing my wet hair behind my head, I opened the door.

Éowyn stood before me. "Will you be coming to breakfast?"

To tell the truth, I was not very hungry. On top of that, remembering certain incidents from last night's dinner did not help, considering it was my very first dinner.

I began to shake my head.

"Do not be such a coward, Ardeas. Uncle will quite literally skin them if any of them mentions it. He was furious last night, indeed."

Really. Even though I like this man a great deal, I have serious doubts that this man, who just _happens_ to be the king of a small, yet plucky nation really cares that I threw up last night when I ate too much. Go with the lie.

"Truly, I am not hungry."

Éowyn raised an eyebrow.

"Suit yourself."

She turned and left for the hall. After thinking of my options of where to go, I decided on the library. It had seemed quiet yesterday, as if not many frequented it.

Yesterday: it seemed so long ago, like a dream from which I had woken.

I found my way to the library with much difficulty, but ending with satisfaction as I finally remembered the way. No one was in there; they were all at breakfast.

I picked up a leatherbound book, flipping through it for pictures. It looked like some sort of history book. There were several painstakingly drawn pictures of men who looked like kings and princes. There were two princes who must have been twins, they were nearly identical. The writing in the book, though crip and neat, was unreadable to me, obviously.

The pictures were fascinating. I especially loved the pictures of the twins. They had several pages devoted to them, I surmised, or at least, five pictures. Three were pictures showing them as children, youths, and as young men. It then showed them riding off to battle tomorrow. The last picture was despondent. Both of them were lying on the battlefield, facing each other, blood on their chests from wounds of some sort, their eyes open, but without the life they had shown in the other pictures. They could only be dead. It was almost worthy of tears.

It felt sad to me, these twin brothers, who died side by side, but I ca not tell you why. I knew nothing of these men; they could have been sadists for all I knew, and yet their death was sad all the same. I felt my eyes beginning to water. A trickle of blood was running from the mouth of one of the men. They were now gone. Utterly, truly, and eternally gone.

They had seemed so full of life in the previous pictures, and now gone, so young. It was like a terrible mistake. I half expected to turn another page and find them getting up and walking back to their horses. They couldn't _really_ be dead. They were too young to die. People don't die that young; they just don't.

I felt a tear slide down my cheek. It splashed onto the edge of the page leaving a dark mark where the water had soaked in. I wanted to turn the page and find them alive and well. But somehow I knew they were dying in the picture.

The way their eyes showed no life, their hands still clutching their swords...

I slammed the book shut.

---

Krane voice sounded from the doorway, "What troubles you, milady? What made you treat that text with such distaste?"

"I have a headache, my lord," I mumbled before quickly shoving the book back onto the shelf, turning around, and quickly running out of the library. I left Krane in a state of confusion at my actions.

I slowed my gait as I got to the stairs, and began plunging upwards in the pitch blackness. What had disturbed me about those twins?

Was it death?

I never thought of death like that, being utterly and eternally gone. Maybe whoever my parents were. They must be dead, but I cannot remember them. It is not the same...

If that dratted artist had not drawn those twins so well!

I felt my eyes watering again.

I practically sprinted down the hall to my little guestroom.

I used a washbasin and washed my face, clearing it of all my emotions. A small mirror beside it showed my emotions no longer existing. Complete neutrality. A clean nothing.

I sat in a high backed chair next to the window, waiting for something to happen next. When would Éowyn come looking for me? Or Krane for that matter? I had done nothing short of pushing past him. Maybe I would be ignored.

Is that what I wanted? To be ignored? Or do I still want to be the center of attention as the poor skinny little girl who was abused and mistreated in the home of a "wise" man?

Was I conceited? I certainly hoped not, but all the same. Here I was, a servant: doing nothing in the house of my king. It was morning; there was work to be done, and I had no titles to call my own. Was I selfish for not insisting I help? Even Éowyn hadthings to do, she admitted it herself. She did not just sit around and look pretty.

I was the fifth wheel of a wagon, not making much sense, trying to be the central focal point on the wagon.

Why had they rescued me anyway? Was it pity? Did I need to be rescued?

To be sure, I was not happy with Rourn and Findulwyn. I was not pleased, and I was certainly not contented. But I was surviving all the same. Was it all necessary? Was I conceited enough to believe that I was important enough to be rescued? I was not royalty. Even if I had been, surely Théoden would have recognized royal parentage in me. I was nothing really. Why was I living here? I was worthless.

I was Outcast. I did not deserve it.

This led me to a conclusion about Edoras. I did not belong here. This was not my part.

The sun's light crossed the room as she rose higher into the sky.

Should I risk running away off into the wilderness? Did I want them to rescue me, so that once again I could be in thet center of attention? Did I _really_ want them to ignore me?

Did I deserve Théoden King's attention? Certainly not. And yet, why was it offered to me? Why was I here?

The door opened to reveal Éowyn.

"There you are, child. I have been looking for you."

My philosophical thoughts were banished to the furthest reachest of my mind. For the time being.

"Me?"

"Of course you. Come, Uncle would like to see you."

Me? Why?

She awaited a response from me. I casually stood, smoothing out the wrinkles of the dress.

I walked passed her into the hallway, pausing to wait for her.

"Ardeas? How is your headache?"

What headache? My excuse to Krane...

"Much better. Thank you, milady," remembering my manners.

We followed the by now much familiar path to the main hall where Théoden King sat on his throne for most of the day. Éowyn pushed open the doors with confidence and ease. I felt so stupid next to her. What had I been thinking yesterday? I should have more reverence for such a woman as Éowyn. They would not keep me forever here. What would I do when I was no longer a guest? I would have slapped myself for having such childlike fancies, but it would be awkward to slap one's self in public.

I approached the throne and curtsied as best I could for Théoden. He had seen me as soon as I had entered. He smiled at me.

"Good morning, Ardeas. I noticed you did not come to breakfast. Ill from the previous night?"

I gave a faltered nod. That _was_ partially true.

"I have wanted to have a decent conversation with you, Ardeas."

"With me, my lord?"

He smiled warmly. It no longer seemed real to me.

"Of course, with you. Would you prefer before or after noonmeal?"

"Before the noonmeal, my lord, if it is not so much trouble." Whatever he had to say to me, I wanted to get it over with.

"Very good, then. Would be so kind as to come with me to my study?"

I nodded politely like a good little girl. In my mind, I was screaming.

---

What on Arda did Théoden King want to talk to _me_ about?

He motioned me through a door. I walked into the room.

It was a beautiful room, a small window on the ceiling let a little light into the room. Browns and greens seemed to be the main feature of the room, with a few soft greys. Tapestries adorned the walls. Bookcases were everywhere the tapestries missed. In the center of the room was a large desk, with a rather imposing chair behind it. In front of the desk were two chair, made of wood and covered in a material I could not recognize.

I stood in the center of the room, awed by its luxury and richness. The carpets beneath my bare feet where thick and warm.

He gestured at a chair before the desk.

"Sit, Ardeas."

He moved behind the desk, pulled out his on chair, and sat down in the most oxymoron kind of way: dignified (he was the king, afterall), and casual (creating a pleasant relaxed atmosphere, but not enough for me).

I sat slowly on the chair, feeling very nervous and self-conscious. This wasn't just some older man who had saved my life: this was the king! And I had been so disrespectful before! The embarrassment! I took a deep breath as quietly as possible and willed myself not to flush scarlet. I just hate myself sometimes!

"You must be wondering why I wanted to speak with you, Ardeas."

Understatement of the century, I thought.

I nodded.

He smiled.

"I suspected as much. You may be wondering what you would be doing in the future here."

My mind didn't reply. I nodded.

"You're a very unusual case, Ardeas. I have been not quite sure what I am to do with you."

Slit my throat, I replied inwardly. Saves time, and as an added plus, your presence is graced with my absence.

"In fact, my child, you have rather startled my son. Your presence seems to remind him greatly of someone...someone who lived in Meduseld, long ago."

I guess that's why he was staring at me the whole time I was outside. Maybe that's why that other man was staring at me too. If says my mother was a royal, I was going to scream...

"Of whom do I remind him, my lord?"

Théoden paused to clear his throat. "There was a young woman who lived in Meduseld, whom you starkly resemble, I have to say myself now. She was the daughter of a lord..."

Damn it! This is all happening to prettily! There is _no_ way I could be a slob who suddenly turns into a royal. The last thing _I_ am is a royal.

With a "pardon me, my lord," I ran screaming out of the room.

---

Talk about an embarrassing moment in life; but that was what I had promised myself I would do if he said something even remotely implying that I was royalty. I could not be royal! It was an impossibility! Everything happening so prettily! Elbereth! What was happening to me?

I ran through the hall screaming, pushing past a very surprised Krane and Théodred, and managed to push open the door, hearing them make noises of concern as Théoden bellowed from his study.

I pushed the door behind me, still screaming. Where would I run?

---

Ten Years Previously

A lone tree sat next to the cottage. Beside it, the bodies of the two women lay, slain. The blood trickled from their throats. The cottage was burning. Many Orc footprints crossed the area. One of the women held a knife and on it was the blood of an Orc. The blood dripped away from the scene, finally ceasing after a hundred feet.

A league away from the scene, a battle had raged, visible from the cottage. The Orcs lay in a heap; their corpses burned, the smoke of which rose to the heavens and was seen by many watchful eyes.

A young girl around the age of four stood a few yards from the tree and the burning house. Her eyes showed no emotion. The stared at the bodies: one her mother, and the other her mother's dear friend. Aunt Thera had sent her away to play in the brooke when the Orcs had first appeared on the horizon. She had come back hours later to this.

_What is wrong with Mummy? Why is Aunt Thera holding knife that is dripping with blackberry juice? They look like they squashed the strawberries from the garden on their necks? What are they doing? I am hungry. It is nearly evening meal._

Horses neighed on the horizon as they galloped away, the last from the battle.

The girl turned to watch them.

_Oh I wish I had a pony! I suppose Mummy and Aunt Thera will wake up soon enough. They must be tired. I will play at the brooke for a few more hours._

The girl removed herself and went to the brooke to splash around.

The sky soon turned dark with the setting of the sun.

_I will go to the village. I've always wanted to go to the village but Aunt Thera said I was too young. I will show them!_

The girl left the brooke and took off in a random direction.

---

I ran off down the side of the porch toward the practice field.

People were there. Dammit. Mostly men, but I could see a girl about Éowyn's age start shooting arrows on a target by herself off by herself. None of the men would let her into the group. I decided to go talk to her.

I calmly strode to her, hoping Théoden would not come looking for me anytime soon. I could not bear him seeing me after I ran out on him like that. It _was_ foolish, but all the same. Everything was working out too perfectly. I needed some mistakes to make myself seem more real to myself, which sounds so utterly odd.

"What are you doing?" I asked to the girl who was most obviously doing archery. It was an introduction though.

"Archery," she replied in a soft voice. She would not look me in the eye. She was unbearably anti-social. Maybe it was just a bad day for her.

"My name is Ardeas. What isyour name?" I said as cheerfully as I could muster.

"Morwyn," she said quietly. She asked, her brows bent in confusion, "Are you the girlthey say threwup last night?"

I looked down, supremely embarrassed. I gave a little nod.

Her features showed a ghost of a smile, but faded when I looked her in the eye. "That was very funny, Ardeas." Her voice no longer had feeling.

As if to strengthen her point, I heard some of the men laughing too loudly and too together to be at anything else but myself. I bit my lip and did not turn around.

"I am sorry that you just caught me leaving, Ardeas, but that was my last shot. I am due to see the seamstresses about a new gown.My mother's orders."

"But you only just began..." I said.

She firmly replied, signalling that the conversation was at an end. "It was nice to meet you, Morwyn."

She hesitated, as if to say something more. She looked at me out of the corner of her eye and apparently decided not to say anything at all. She walked calmly away, though her back was bent under some unknown stress. It was almost sad to see a pretty girl such as herself so melancholy. She looked back at me watching her and broke into a run.

What had I done to upset her so?

I heard the men laughing again.

I turned around with an intent of saying something very harsh and very rude, but just in time, held my tongue. These were, for the most part, noble's sons. I could find myself knee-deep trouble.

"Look! She isturning green again!"

I glared at the man that Éowyn had introduced to me as Séthan.

"Are you all right, lady? Are you going to vomit _again_?" Special emphasis was put on the "again." I was going to kill him.

No, no, no, my mind chastised myself. It would not end like this. He did not deserve my retorts. The wind blew my hair across my face. I smiled demurely, smoothed out my dress, and sat, facing the wind.

They jeered some more, laughed, but I decided to pay no attention. It still hurt though. They could not let a mistake go. Bastards.

A/N: I don't like Author Notes at the beginning of chapters so from now on, they will all be at the end. (rather pointless author's note)

Happy New Year everybody.


	8. Chapter Eight

Chapter VIII

I returned to Théoden's study shortly thereafter. He was reading a book. He looked up from the book and did not say anything. Only a raised eyebrow at my entrance.

"I am _incredibly_ sorry, my lord. I had a minor nosecold," I deadpanned. I rubbed my nose for effect and sniffled a little.

"Interesting." He frowned at something about which he was thinking.

There was a long pause. I sank my feet deeper in the fur carpets.

"Now, where were we, Ardeas, before you were so unfortunately taken in with a... what _exactly_ was it again?" His eyebrows raised again.

"A nosecold, my lord."

"A nosecold."

"And I believe you were just saying that my mother's father was lord."

"Indeed I _was_."

I blushed.

"As I was saying, your mother was the daughter of a lord. And the more more I think about it, the more I am convinced that your grandfather is Lord Éodain. Your mother could therefore only be his only child, a daughter: Lady Adinel. There was quite scandal fourteen years ago, your approximate age I surmise. Lady Adinel was not yet married, and she was pregnant, with you I would assume. The father, _your_ father, was never revealed by the Lady, and he himself never came forward with the responsibility."

Did I detect a hint of animosity in his tone about my supposed father?

"Your mother, Lady Adinel, left the royal court and was never heard of for four years. During that time, one of her closest friends, by the name of Thera, left the court as well. We soon found out that she left to find Adinel."

Thera. That name rang a bell inside my mind. Thera... it sounded like a name I had used long ago. Thera. Had I known someone in my past named Thera?

There was a pause as Théoden shifted in his seat. He glanced up at me as I stared off into space, trying to remember where I had heard the name Thera.

"Are you well, child?"

I nodded. "I was just thinking, my lord." I asked on an impulse: "Do you know why Morwyn is so melancholy?"

He gave a long, incredulous stare. "Morwyn?"

"Yes, my lord. I have just become acquainted with her, and she seemed rather sorrowful about something."

"You should not pay attention to her."

"Why, my lord?"

"Because her company is unhealthy," he said scornfully.

I flinched at his tone.

"Unhealthy?" I asked quietly, hoping to not to brew anger.

"Yes, _very_ unhealthy. Try to avoid her, child. We wouldn't want such a nice girl as yourself to be ruined by the likes of her. I will be introducing you to Lord Éodain sometime this noon meal."

I blinked at the change of subject.

"There is much more to be told, but not now. Come back to my study following the noon meal. That is all, Ardeas. You may go."

"Thank you, my lord."

Théoden returned his gaze to papers on his desk.

I stood and curtsied falteringly. I left the room and entered the main hall, closing the heavy door behind me.

Why on Arda did Théoden want me to avoid Morwyn? What had she done?

I returned to my room, intent upon thinking over everything I had just learned. My grandfather lived in the halls. He was probably that one man who did not stop staring at me through dinner last night. My emotions did not change when I found out that I very likely had kin living here.

I wondered at that. Did I not care at this new revelation?

No, I really did not. It did not bother me one way or another. In fact, the enigma of Morwyn had me more interested than the concept of my grandfather.

I found that rather odd.

---

A few minutes later, and I had decided I was going to find out all I could about Morwyn so I could decide for myself whether I would avoid her or not. My mind swam with ideas at what she had done to deserve such treatment, yet still be allowed to take up residency here (apparently, at least). Was it something her parents or other kin did? The whole situation was curious.

---

Éowyn found me fifteen minutes later ready for noon meal.

She smiled, "Excellent. I was worried that I might have to remind you that noon meal was about to occur."

I chuckled slightly. "How could I forget?"

Éowyn shook her head slightly. "No one will mention it."

"Just like no one did on the practice field," I said sarcastically.

Éowyn frowned slightly, "They were probably half inebriated. They are all imbeciles anyway." She wavered for a moment. "What were you doing on the practice field?"

"I was just there. I talked to Morwyn for a little bit." Éowyn visibly stiffened when I mentioned her name. Her eyes changed from warm and friendly to cool and distant. She interrupted me.

"You should not have spoken to her. I should have talked to you first."

"She did me no harm!" I rebuffed.

"She is unhealthy company," Éowyn said firmly, in a tone of disdain.

"She seemed not unhealthy to me."

Éowyn did not answer. "You must come to the noon meal now."

I bristled. "Will no one say why she deserves so much dislike?"

Éowyn turned to me with distant eyes. "Ardeas, your ignorance in court manners will not go untaught. For now, they are excused. In the future, you will be dealt with so lightly."

What?!

"For the time that you remain her, I must kindly request that you stay away from Morwyn." She spoke Morwyn's name as if it was bitter poison on her lips and that she must seperate herself from it as quickly as possible.

Éowyn had turned from a friend and confidant to a cold and detached acquaintance.

"Come. You must come to the noon meal."

Why did this subject make everyone so different? It made me so furious that a girl such as Morwyn, a very shy girl and seemingly friendly, was treated so indifferently. What on earth had she done to deserve such a thing?

I decided not to ask Krane about Morwyn. I did not want him hating me.

---

Apparently, with the subject off Morwyn, Éowyn soon returned to her normal self. Laughing lightly and including me in conversations and such. Théoden seemed to have forgotten Morwyn as well. I could not bring myself to smile or laugh as much as I might have. The way their personalities changed was unnerving, added to my already disturbing conversations with them.

I finished dinner without any major mishaps, such as losing everything all Lord Éodain, who was sitting directly across from me, much to my chagrin. Mortelia was kind enough to laugh at me before snorting quite ridiculously as she tried to hold it in after a few pointed glares from Krane and Éowyn.

As the final plates were taken away, people began to leave to return to whatever activities they had taken up before the meal. Théoden spoke in a conversational tone to Lord Éodain.

"Lord Éodain, I believe I have something to tell you about the lady Ardeas who now sits across from you."

I stared at the table where my plate had been; my right hand began playing with my black tresses.

"Yes, my lord?" Lord Éodain answered, after casting a suspicious look at me.

"This is Adinel's daughter."

At least he got it over with as soon as possible. I could not have stood it if Théoden had dragged it out.

Lord Éodain turned his penetrating gaze to me. I could feel the looks of others who had heard this piece of news look at me.

"I had wondered about that, my lord," Lord Éodain said to Théoden King, still looking at me. I turned my face upwards, focusing my eyes somewhere around his chin. I was not yet ready to make eye contact.

Silence reigned at our end of the table. The other end, as well as other tables, began to notice the uneasy silence near the King, and soon, the entire room was quiet.

I began to hear whispers go down the table as those that had heard Théoden told the others next to them and so forth. Soon, I was under the entire room's scrutiny. And I did not like it one bit.


	9. Chapter Nine

Chapter IX

(language warning)

People stared agape, and I felt Mortelia's cool and disdainful glare. I was not the trash she had surmised I had been. I was Lord Éodain's granddaughter, which though it was not much to me, was apparently a great social class leap from where the other nobles had mentally placed me.

I felt so uncomfortable I thought my heart had expanded to the size of my head and was pounding my innards to pieces. My only thought was to breathe. Breathe and soon it will be all over.

And as soon as the silence began, it ended with people chattering, pretending nothing unusual had just occurred though it did not seem like normal talk, proof that some of them were still thinking heavily about me.

I did not move and inch from my seat, though my brain was desperately arguing with itself whether to run out. After a few moment's contemplation, I chose to stay put. There was no telling what would happen if I ran out on this one. It would be foolish to run in any case.

I looked up at Lord Éodain, meeting his eyes for the first time. "It is a pleasure to meet you, my lord."

He surprised me with a warm smile, "Likewise, my lady." I could still sense something else, perhaps his harbored feelings of distrust. I did not blame him. I would have been less than believing if my granddaughter suddenly turned up.

- Éodain's Point of View -

It did not seem possible that the scrawny little girl in front of me could be Adinel's daughter. Still, from what I had heard, this girl had been working as a slave for a long time. Of course she would be scrawny, though she had cleaned up nicely from yesterday.

I had wondered why this girl was sitting at the high table. The nobles were gossiping that the King had taken a fancy to her and wanted her to live her as his daughter. I doubted that. King Théoden was not that easily taken in.

Adinel looked much better than this... what was her name again? Oh, yes. Ardeas.

I honestly did not know what to make of her. Her face was very nearly as beautiful as Adinel. Very nearly indeed.

- Ardeas's Point of View -

I finished with lunch sooner than I had expected. Lord Éodain left soon after with the silence at our end of the table not making much conversation. I retired to my room claiming a mild headache, which was not entirely a lie. I had a lot over which to simmer.

I stared out the window of the room. The sun shone brightly, and the wind blew the grass around Meduseld lightly. The rest of the city was as busy as ever. People milled about. I had an excellent view, being on a much higher level. But it was unexciting, and soon my mind longed for change. Besides, I should not waste away the day watching others. Perhaps I could talk to Morwyn.

Morwyn.

The thought of her made me furious. Not _at_ Morwyn, but at everyone in particular. Why should they mistreat her so? I could not tell anything different about her. She was not an orc. Why should they hate her? I made up my mind that I would continue to speak with her until I found out what was about her that made them hate her. Then I would decide for myself whether that deserved such utter abhorrence. It was against my person to act so rashly against someone else. I wish they would at least tell me why I should avoid her, instead of quickly turning cool and distant.

I think I would try to find her to talk. She was about my age.

I felt slightly tired. I lay myself down on the bed and closed my eyes, reaching for the comforting blackness of sleep. I was soon breathing deeply, ignoring the rest of the world and trying to gain rest.

After a nap that left me not in the least refreshed, I ventured down to the library. I might some beautiful pictures at which to look while I pretended to read. I wanted to at least appear intelligent, and besides, the library was a comforting place.

I was most surprised when I found Mortelia and her group lounging about the library. They did not seem the type who liked books, but I had only met them yesterday.

"Oh hello, Adinel's daughter," Mortelia exclaimed as she stood, her voice glazed with molasses. Either she was trying to make sure I would not report her to Théoden, or she was planning something. I was more inclined to believe the latter. She did not seem like one to be bothered by the former.

She continued:

"I had not expected you were Adinel's daughter, though I had had my suspicions, even though I was barely seven when the _incident_ with Adinel occurred. What a scandal!"

I knew what was coming. It was only blatantly obvious. I began to browse the books on the wall, glancing through some and being careful not to pick up the one that had the pictures of the twins in it.

"Of course, if you really _are_ Adinel's daughter, then I do not see why I was insulting you yesterday."

I glanced at her with a raised eyebrow before turning back to my current book's picture of Edoras under construction.

"You see, Ardeas, I had made a vow not to talk to bastards."

I turned to face her my eyebrows bent in fury on the insult. Of course I really was a bastard but that did not give her any right to remind me of something that beyond my control.

She and her group smiled maliciously, "Yes, you heard me right, bastard. I was entirely correct yesterday when I called your mother a whore, of course I did not know it for sure then, though I had conjectures about such. Your countence was a dead giveaway, if I do say so myself."

Her group made little murmurs of agreement.

I had had enough of this. I was going to slit her throat with anything that I could find.

"Excuse me, Mortelia, but I am thoroughly finished with listening to the incessant flapping of your mouth. What you say may be true, but to speak of it in such a way not only shows your lack of intelligence but also your lack of maturity."

The room started at the voice, and I entirely pleased to Krane at the doorway. He smiled sympathetically at me before turning a death glare on Mortelia and her group. Mortelia at first looked flustered at his arrival, intending to most likely scream for help when I attacked her then have all of her friends testify that I had the cause of it all, but now looked pleased. It was a good thing Krane had arrived when he had done, or I would have had blood on my hands.

"Hello, my dear Krane! How wonderful to join in our discussion, though your language is quite uncalled for. All that _I_ said was true."

"Why you little..." I began, but Krane cut me off.

"Mortelia, it is people like you that make people like me want to hurt people like you. You are rapidly approaching your point of no return."

"Oh _am_ I, dear Krane?" Mortelia said sweetly, entirely unfazed, though the rest of her group was growing uneasy.

"Quite. Now, Mortelia, I am afraid I must request that you apologize sincerely to Ardeas and promise that you will do no such thing as you have done now again."

"I cannot concur with your wishes, my lord, for no apologizing needs to be done, and surely I should _always_ speak the truth."

My fingers were really itching to grasp a knife...

No, no. I could not kill her. I took a deep breath.

"Mortelia, in all my years of experience, I have found that insults and unconstructive criticisms all stem from jealousy. That should be something to think about."

"Jealousy? I hardly think so. Why would _I_, a lady of noble birth, be jealous of the bastard of an impudent whore?"

I did not reply. It took all of my self restraint to calmly walk from that room instead of snaking my hands around her neck and confidently squeezing her throat. I heard Krane practically yell at her.

I sadly smiled at his defense of me.

-

My fire had died. I did not want to argue with Mortelia anymore. Maybe her words had penetrated my barrier. _The Bastard of an Impudent Whore._ I felt tears prick at my eyes. I wished my mother, whoever she was, was here for me.

Nobody was in the room. I curled up next to the bed, pulled my knees up to my chest, and cried like the baby I am.

-

"I always look forward to a good cry, you know."

I was woken from my sleep by the voice of Morwyn. She tapped me on the shoulder and a shook the sleep from my head and turned around. I was surprised to see her. I had not expected her to come see me. She had seemed so anti-social before.

"What are you doing here? Éowyn might come in." I wiped my eyes.

She was sitting on the edge of the bed next to me. "That doesn't matter. What happened?"

I sighed, "Oh, nothing really. Just that blasted Mortelia again."

"What did she do?"

I broke down again, "She called me a whore's bastard." Tears began running freely again.

She pulled me into a friendly embrace, rubbing my back in a comforting manner. "You should not listen to her. She is just a bitch, and there is nothing anyone can do about it."

I had calmed down a bit before I pulled away and asked. "What are you doing here? I thought you did not like me."

Morwyn shrugged her shoulders. "I was afraid they had already told you about me and that you would scorn me."

"Why do they hate you?"

"My father was a murderer."

I was shocked. And confused.

She turned sadly away. "Yes, I know. I am a terrible, sick person."

I was flabberghasted at that. "What on Arda do you mean? They actually judge you for something your _father_ did? And why do you stay on here if they hate you?"

She smiled morosely. "Yes. In the same way that Mortelia judges you for your mother's deeds. And the only reason I am here is my mother. She is the king's sister."

"You are Théoden's niece?"

"Yes, though I rue the day I met the man. And the rest of his family. Even Théodwyn's family."

"What happened to your mother?"

"Oh, she still resides here. My birth left her very weak, and she has remained an invalid. But as soon as she dies, I will be left for the vultures."

I stared in disbelief, but turned my gaze away when I truly understood.

"What about me? Am I not a bastard?"

Morwyn sighed, "Ardeas, you are, and I do not know why they keep you here. From what I have heard, however, your father was of noble birth, and so was your mother, even if it was out of wedlock. My father was a murderer, who had been forsaken by everyone. I am not even sure how my parents loved each other, if they did."

"Prejudices are too common."

"Much too common," she agreed with me.

I felt so awful. But I did have a kindred spirit in Morwyn, which was in the least, comforting.

She looked at me sadly, not finding words to say but I knew what she meant. They would scorn me too for my friendship with her, and she would leave now if I wanted her to leave.

She stood and with a "I hope I will see you later then," she was gone. There was not anything more to be said.

A/NI've been revising past chapters... most notably, I am currently revising chapter five which is most difficult. i have changed a few things in chapters 1, 2, 3, 4. not anything big, mostly just minor details that don't matter. And as always, review. i am always looking for constructional criticism to help improve my writing. thanks! suggestions on what should happen next? i've got some of it thought out but if someone suggests a really good idea, i will look into it


	10. Chapter Ten

(Eh, I should probably put this in: great deal of blood in this chapter, and I hope I handled it within the PG-13 limits. Please tell me if otherwise.)

Chapter X

Years past slowly at Edoras. I still do not know what I officially was. The King was a sort of grandfather figure in my life. I grew and matured under his watchful gaze, with Éowyn becoming much like an older sister to me, a good companion when Morwyn was not involved. And the longer I stayed, the more I hated it.

Everything around me was a lie. The prejudices and bigotries were all too common as I discovered. And I did not care for any of it one bit. Why did not I speak up about it, you ask? Why would I? Nobody really cared, not even Krane who turned out to be the most liberal person in Edoras, which was not very liberal at all. Nobody cared about change and progress. To everyone else, Edoras was perfectly fine; there was no reason to change, to improve.

Rourn had his right hand cut off on charges of treachery and deceit to the king, as well as disobeying the anti-slavery laws, plus a good five years imprisoned. Findulwyn was sentenced to six years in prison for assisting him. I did not attend either trial. They are both waiting in cold dank cells for what end I cannot now imagine.

As I grew older, I became a pseudo-child to Théoden, the daughter that he never had. He insisted that I refer to him as Father, much to Théodred's dislike (I did not blame him). When he told me, I wanted to scream and run away into a corner and cry for eternity, but instead, I held my tongue and then asked him a question, using Father as a direct address.

Shortly before my fifteenth birthday ("Father" had proclaimed my birthday to be the Midyear since no one really knew it), I finally admitted to Krane that I could not read, which although very common among the _ladies_, I did not want to be left out of any of the books in the library. Over the course of the next few weeks, I began to learn how to read and write Rohirric; Krane also began to tutor me in Westron, the Common Tongue, which he said might prove useful to know. It made no real difference to me, but I followed his instructions.

I saw little of Morwyn. Her mother continued to linger on, more of a wraith than a real woman, so frail and white she was. I only saw her twice, but each time she looked like she was dying, yet she continued to wake each morning, much to many people's dismay, as well as ask for food and use the bedpan. Her muscles, on her legs had whithered to almost nothing, I could very well see through the covers under which she lay. Sticks. Nothing more than sticks covered with skin under those coverlets. It was so awful to see her lingering on. You could see it in the woman's eyes that she begged for death everyday, but had not the courage to starve herself as the rest of the royal court would have preferred. It was so heartwrenching, but nothing could be done about it, or at least, nothing I could do.

It was not long after my fifteenth birthday that the trouble started.

The day finally came when the king's sister Mlandra, Morwyn's mother, died. I sneaked up to her room and watched with horror and a morbid fascination as a maid, trembling like there was no tomorrow, covered her face with a white sheet and that the maid's pocket was unusually lumpy looking. I noticed that a strand of garnets that had always been about Mlandra's neck was missing. Mlandra's dark hair was slightly damp, I could tell, from the way that it clung to her face. Oh skies her face: it was whiter than anything I had seen, not a single spark of life. I felt so ill but I continued watching her from behind the thick curtains along the wall. The white sheet covered her face, leaving a vague silhouette, waiting for the coffin. The body looked almost diseased. I watched Morwyn as she sat by her mother's dead body weeping with so many tears that I wondered if anyone ever wept that much in their entire lifetime. She held her mother's white hand from under the sheet, probably now long cold. I shuddered at the thought of holding a cold lifeless hand, let alone touching a dead body. It was sickening, but I could not help but watch. The maid, still trembling, half ran out of the room, probably the fear of a dead body, or maybe fearing that Morwyn would notice what looked like a necklace of garnets in her pocket, or even the fear that Mlandra's phantom would come back to haunt her for disturbing the dead. I did not know. Even from behind, Morwyn looked dangerously thin. I think she had known her mother was going to die soon. She had ceased to be cheerful and stopped earting, for the most part, as well; Morwyn had not eaten a full meal in a month.

"Morwyn?" I said as a stepped toward her.

"Ar-Ardeas? I-i-is th-th-that y-you?" she managed to choke out.

"It's me, Morwyn. I-" Words failed me, but I knew what to do. I put hand on her shoulder. "Don't cry, Morwyn. It will be fine. Please, Morwyn listen-"

She cut me off, standing, and turning around harshly.

"No, it won't be fine, Ardeas! My mother is dead, Ardeas! Can't you see?" Her face was sallow and wan. I don't think she had been out of doors in weeks. The Morwyn's blanched face was almost as white and pale as her dead mother's. It made me feel nauseous to look at her like that.

I tried to swallow the growing lump in my throat. "I can see," I said falteringly, tears stinging my own eyes.

"No!" she said, half screaming and half weeping, "No, you can't see! They're going to be rid of me now! They don't want me here! They're going to smile happily as they send me away. They're going to _remove_ me." I knew of _removing_. In fact, I knew someone that had been _removed_ previously. A maid who was pregnant with a nobleman's child was _removed_. They sent her out on the streets with nothing, while pregnant, and nobody was allowed to take her in because she was under the King's curse. I saw her body the next day of that winter, frozen to death against a frost covered house, a shadow of a smile gracing her cheeks that were rosy from the cold. The maid looked vaguely peaceful in death. That was what _removing_ was. All of it was done by the King's order.

"Morwyn, I won't let that happen. I can convince Father or..."

"See?" she said, "You've already fallen under their wing! You're calling _him_ 'Father'!"

She stepped away from way, making her way to the other side of the bed across from me, with the dead body of her mother in between.

"But-"

She interrupted me for the last time. "They're aren't any 'buts' anymore, Ardeas. I am not going to wait for them to _remove_ me out of their lives. I will not give them that last satisfaction or getting rid of me themselves." She took a deep breath and then looked at me with one sorrow-filled smile, and I was frozen with shock. Morwyn reached inside the deep pocket of her dress and withdrew a thin twist of iron by its hilt, shining inimically in the candle light, which had gone from a warm golden to glow to a sickly ashen yellow with the mood of the room.

"Morwyn, don't!" I tried to step around to her.

Her face was emotionless, but her eyes were bursting with feeling: seething with self-hatred, guilt, and sorrow.

She took the dagger and slit her own throat. I was petrified.

She shrieked with pain and tried to stem the blood flow with her hands, having decided too late that she did not want to die. Morwyn slumped to the floor her eyes moving wildly with fear. I immediately raced to her side, bending my knees and sitting on my feet. I held her head in my lap.

"Morwyn," I cried as my tears landed on her face as her eyes stop moving and stared blankly at the ceiling, the blood pouring from her neck. "Don't leave me, Morwyn." There was no response from her person. I did not feel her wrists for a heartbeat because I knew there would not be one, and I did not want to feel a wrist that did not have the lifeblood surging through it.

"Morwyn! Wake up, please!" My tears were trickling over my face like raindrops. "Don't leave me alone; please, Morwyn!"

But she did not wake when called.

I set her body down on the floor and closed her eyes. As despondent as I was, I did not have like the feeling of her blood on my dress. It was like Morwyn's life was all over my dress.

Morwyn's face was blanched, but looked strangely content. A ghost of a smile graced her lips where an expression had not been, just as the maid had looked frozen to death that morning.

I do not know how I did not manage to get sick. Maybe it was because it was not about all of the blood. Maybe it was because it was a life that was passing away, forever out of reach, out of touch. I had been holding a body with no more spirit, a body that had been very much alive only a few moments before; a body that was still warm with fading life that would never return to this earth, a life that would never return to me with that friendly smile to throw things back into perspective again.

I did not care about the queer looks people gave myself as I walked through Meduseld to my room. They could think all they wanted about my bloodsoaked skirt and tearstained face. I did not give a shit about what any of them thought. Nothing mattered anymore.

Éowyn saw me coming down the hall to my room and panicked at my appearance, though concern overrode the fear that I saw in her eyes at my ghastly appearance.

"Child! What on Arda has happened?"

My eyes were blank, and I think that frightened her more.

I remember looking up at her seeming so worthless and stupid and lonely on the edge of a cliff in a the bright light of a full moon.

"Morwyn's dead."

She visibly stiffened at the mentioned of Morwyn, but looked very surprised, though not sorrowful at all.

"Dead?"

I looked straight forward, all of the tears drying in my eyes.

"She killed herself."

I woke in my bed a little while later, a funny smell on my nostrils. It was night, and I saw the remains of my bloodstained dress burning in the fireplace. It was in shreds. Somebody had taken the time to rip it piece by piece and feed it into the fire so that it did not quench the fire when thrown onto it all at once. I sickened at the thought of any hands touching blood. Morwyn's blood.

Morwyn's suicide.

The door suddenly opened to reveal someone, bearing something on a wooden tray.

"Ah! You're awake!"

Krane stepped into the light of the fire carrying what now looked like food and drink.

"Yes. I'm awake."

He smiled brightly and set the tray down onto the table beside me. He pulled up a chair next to my bedside.

"How fairs the one so ill?" he said in a mock-dramatic voice.

"Ill?" I asked, perplexed.

"Éowyn said that passed out while talking to her and that you had been a ghostly white before that."

Oh that might have something to do with the fact that I had a friend of mine slit her throat in front of me next to her dead mother's body and die in my arms today. Nothing to worry about Krane. _Nothing_ at all.

"I sh-should imagine so."

Krane turned a trained eye on me. "Great stars, child! What has happened?"

There was a long pause.

His voice was softer, and after studying me for a moment said, "What did you see?"

That was too much for me. I burst into tears and cried and cried and cried.

"I s-saw M-M-Morwyn k-kill h-herself! Sh-she s-slit h-h-her throat in-in front of m-me!"

He sat back in his chair, mulling over the news. I would have thought there would have been mass celebrations that their public enemy was dead and gone and never returning. Maybe Father for some reason had decided to keep things on the hush-hush. Father! I cannot believe I just thought that! After what Morwyn told me! I just can't-

My thoughts were interrupted by Krane. "What do you think about it?"

I wiped my tears on the sleeve of my nightgown. "I don't know what to think."

Krane's eyes showed understanding and consideration.

"Was she your friend?"

I looked up at him accusingly and sharply. No one knew of my friendship with Morwyn; we had made sure of that. She did not want me to suffer because of my friendship with her. "No," I lied, as if that was the most obvious thing in the world, and that I never was friends with that little snip of a king's niece.

He merely raised an eyebrow and by the look in his eye, I knew that he _knew_.

"Well, I'm sure the shock of seeing a young woman kill herself would be very traumatic. Though I _can't_ seem to think of an explanation for the blood on your dress." He looked a me reproachfully, for my falsehood I guess. I chewed on my bottom lip and hoped he would know that I did not want to pursue the matter any further. He abruptly stood. "I'm sure you must be hungry. Be sure to eat something. We wouldn't want you turning into a wraith."

I nodded meekly and sat back against the pillows, my face lowered. I heard his footsteps, then the door opened. More footsteps, and it closed with a heavy dull thud, like the end of an eon. The sound of that door closing echoed in my mind for years to come.

AN: I will be taking a creative license over Grima, unless someone can give me reliable information about him from any book by the Professor. I do not really know anything about him other that what is in The Two Towers and how somewhere I remember hearing that he was with Théoden for five years. I have not read anything other than the trio, _The Hobbit_, the _Silmarillion_, and parts of _Unfinished Tales_ as well as parts of the _Tolkien Reader_. I can't remember anything about Grima that I read, though perhaps there is something in _UT_ or something else that I have not read. PLEASE. if anyone knows about Grima, tell me. And as always, please review and tell me what's good and what's not, in a very respectful way please. And note, some of the past review may not make sense, notably because I have revised this story big time. Thanks again to reviewers who make my day.


	11. Chapter Eleven

Chapter XI

I ate the contents of the tray as Krane had asked and settled back into the bed, snuggling deeper into the thick coverlet.

I tried to sleep, but I soon gave up as the smell of the bloodied burning dress was overpowering and made me think. It had my mind replaying all that I did not care to think about, much less remember.

I slipped out of bed, and taking the coverlet with me like a coat, stepped out of my room toward the back porch where I could watch the stars.

Unsurprisingly, no one was there. I sat, in a fit of nostalgia, on the same bench that Éowyn and I had sat upon on my first day in Edoras. Stars, how things had changed then. I was an ignorant little girl then. I looked down at the coverlet under which my body was hidden. I had changed a great deal since those auspicious beginnings that had soon turned to averse beginnings. I turned my head starward. The stars were bright tonight, and the moon illuminated everything in a pale freezing light.

I cannot remember how long I remained there, looking upwards, but at one point, I heard a door close on the porch, and there stood Éowyn in a nightgown, bearing a lighted candle, which was promptly blown out by the wind.

"You were not in your room, Ardeas, so I thought you might be out here." Her voice held a hint of warmth and amusement, "You always liked watching the stars." She took a cautious step toward me as I made no reply, "Would you mind it terribly if I joined you?"

I shook my head. "I shan't mind," I said quietly.

She moved next to me and sat down and set the candlestick beside her.

"I wanted to talk to you about a certain subject."

"I suspected as much," I said a little more sharply than I had intended. She gave me an odd look, but continued.

"I wanted to talk to you about Morwyn."

"That is hardly a surprise."

She paused, but proceeded, "Would you talk to me about her?"

"What do you want to know about her?" I said, keeping my eyes upward, taking in all of the starlight I could. Éowyn watched me with an unnamed emotion in her eyes.

"Did you know you why you should not have continued your relationship with her?"

"Yes, I believe I do. She said something about the fact that her father was a convicted murderer. I suppose the deeds of one's father determine how one should be treated," I replied coldly and sarcastically.

That left us in an uncomfortable silence. "Do you know who he murdered?"

I looked at her for the first time, "To be honest, I don't really care. But please tell me if you feel so inclined." I knew she could hear the sarcasm rampant in my voice.

"He murdered a pregnant woman and her two year old toddler."

"That does nothing to excuse the court's behavior. What Morwyn's father is was disgusting, vile, and awful, but I don't believe Morwyn killed those three people."

Éowyn shifted uncomfortably in her seat and glanced at the practice field and the plains beyond it.

"But that isn't the point Ardeas..."

I stood and glared at her, "Then please tell me! What _is_ the point! I for one would be most eager to hear it!"

"Ardeas, please calm down. Sit down."

I took a deep breath and rolled my eyes angrily, keeping my face toward the view, before sitting down next to Éowyn again.

She began, "Maybe the court was not _exactly_ right in our management of Morwyn-"

"Understatement," I muttered, but she shot a quelling look at me.

"May I continue?" she asked sardonically.

I nodded. "As I said before, it is possible the court was not exactly right in our management of Morwyn, but what were we to think?"

I resisted an urge to comment.

"Morwyn's father had a strong influence over her. It was very possible that she may have turned on somebody."

_And I am sure shunning her and allowing her to stew in her own thoughts was the best thing to do_, I thought.

"We cannot have murderers running rampant in Meduseld. That is why Uncle encouraged us to shun Morwyn and to not get close to her so that she could not get close to any of us and have opportunities to, well..."

"It is reason, I will give you that, but it is, at best, a poor reason for your dealings with Morwyn. Had you not considered that treating her lovingly would probably not have raised her to be a murderer? And if you had not hated her, the court would have caused one less death."

"The court caused the death indirectly," Éowyn stiffened.

"Yet they were the principle reason for the death. I fail to see how the court caused the death indirectly," I said in a mocking tone of voice.

"Ardeas," her voice warned, "I don't believe I care for your tone."

"I don't believe I care for your attitudes. Forgive me, Éowyn. I need to take a walk." And with that final end to the conversation, I leapt up, leaving my coverlet behind, and made for the steps down to the practice field where I could wander for a while.

As I stepped lightly down the stairs, I heard take her candlestick, leave the bench, and go indoors toward her own quarters.

The night was peaceful and soothing, but at the same time cold and empty, an unusual feeling all in itself. With the exception of the wind, which always seemed to be blowing in Edoras, the night was silent. The light of the moon shown brightly on the practice field, but it seemed to be a cold light: heartless and betraying. I turned my face up and stared at the moon. And for no reason of which I could think, I began to laugh. I laughed at Rourn and Findulwyn. I laughed at Théodred's dislike of me. I laughed at my friendship with Éowyn. I laughed at Krane and his defense of myself. I laughed at Mortelia's dislike of me. I laughed at Théoden's becoming the father figure in my life. I laughed at my befriending of Morwyn. I laughed at Mlandra's dead body, cold in the grave. I laughed at Morwyn's suicide in front of my very eyes. And I laughed at myself.

I suddenly shut my mouth and felt very foolish. I turned away, retrieved the coverlet, and returned to my room to sleep.

AN: I researched online for book stuff on Grima, and I got nothing on Grima's original origins, so I _assume_ that Tolkien did not write about those. This chapter was very short, but I still find it important, and I thought it was important enough to put by itself, even though I try to keep my chapters at least 5 or 6 pages long. And I think the chapter means more by itself anyway. I know the first few chapters aren't very good and my little revisions shall have to be revised again as I _still_ am not satisfied with them and by God I _will_ finish this story before beginning another one, but I sincerely hope the last few chapters were at least somewhat enjoyable. If anyone does know anything about Grima's origins or where I can read more about him, do not hesitate to tell me. And as always, please review, and state whether it's good or bad. Anything negative other than constructional criticism shall be used to burn my collection of Nancy Drew books, which I bought in a flurry of stupidity when I was 8.

PS has anyone read _the fountainhead_ by ayn rand?


	12. Chapter Twelve

Chapter XII

I didn't like him from the start. He smelled of wet horses (a very unpleasant smell) and rotten meat. His face was ashen and sickly, like it had never seen sunlight, and when he looked at me, I felt like I was naked. His hair could be called greasy at best, and it stuck to his head; he was clothed in black fur, which made him look like one of those girls in Edoras who were obsessed with death, or "Morbids" as Éowyn and the general populace call them. He claimed to be trained by Saruman the Wizard, which apparently would make him an excellent advisor, like having Saruman himself here to advise the king. I didn't trust wizards and thankfully I had managed to avoid that grey wizard that had come to Edoras occasionally before.

As I stood next to Éowyn off to the side, he stood before Théoden talking. The way he spoke was another thing I added to my list of things I hated about this man. It was like his hair, greasy and raspy at the same time, if that is possible. And the words he said were awful. I did not think he would ever get through the things like "Oh, what a fine palace you have here," and the "Oh what swift horses graze on your plains," and my personal favorite: "the sun smiles graciously down upon your beautiful kingdom."

I didn't like the look on Théoden's face either. He seemed very flattered with all the compliments and praises that this man showered down onto him. But the look on his face looked like he thought that this man actually meant most of the adulations, that Éowyn and I could most certainly see were false.

And then his name. To crown off this negative attributes was the name Gríma Wormtongue. The name Wormtongue made me suspect him of something sinister all along.

His mouth moved poison once more, and Théoden nodded in thanks, smiling. He made me sick to my stomach.

"How did you find that man from Isengard? Gríma Wormtongue, I think his name was."

"With all due respect toward himself, rather disgusting," I replied to Éowyn.

Éowyn laughed, "You need not bother with those little affections about men when they are not present. We are women, and they care little for what we have to say anyway."

So I had noticed.

"But even so: he reeked of wet horses," but I added quickly, "And though horses are wonderful creatures, I do not care for the smell of them wet."

"Perhaps the smell of a wet dog?"

"Yes. Possibly that is a better description."

"I do not care for him much either, Ardeas. I find him a bit too vile for my tastes. Did you notice how he did not look at my face when we were introduced, but rather at my chest?"

"That is positively lewd!"

"I should say so. And remember how he kept beating Uncle with compliments about himself, myself, Meduseld, Edoras, and Rohan in general?"

"I did find the one about the sun smiling down amusing."

Éowyn smiled as the evening light in the library crossed her face. "Yes, though it was a bit unnerving."

"Quite."

We started at that voice. It was Mortelia, looking very smugly at us.

"Well, well, well! What have here? Two women criticizing the ambassador of the White Wizard?"

I drew myself, and replied as haughtily as I dared without giggling, "We were merely discussing our opinions on this esteemed gentleman of Isengard." I raised my nose a bit higher for good measure and saw Éowyn out of the corner of my try to stifle a smile.

"Merely," Mortelia said smiling contemptuously. "A rather intelligent word coming from a whore's bastard."

I wanted to rip her throat out, but the constant verbal abuse had left me used to it, and it didn't hurt quite as badly as it had in the previous years of my stay here.

"You are not so bad yourself. And at least _I_ do not find it necessary to flaunt every piece of luggage I have got so that I look more like a prostitute rather than a lady of noble birth. But it is a wonder that you _do_ hold any appeal in the masculine gender considering how you _do_ throw yourself at the nearest man with a rank equal to or higher than yours. My mother may have been in your terms, _a whore_, but that was only with one man. You, on the other hand, have many famous interludes. I think the correct term for yourself, based upon your classification of my mother, would be a dirty demimondaine. A wretched harlot who's sold herself so many times that she has enough money saved to buy a Mearas. You, Mortelia, are a glorified _slut_!"

I took a deep breath as my little speech and/or tirade ended. She was giving me the look as if she had just been trampled by wild horses or what have you. Éowyn's mouth was in a wide "o" of horror, as if she expected Mortelia to spontaneously combust.

Mortelia's eyes narrowed. Her next words would be poison, and one way or another, I would dearly pay for what I had said. And the best thing about that was that I did not give a damn one way or another. She could throw a fit and dance around in a livid rage, and I would not care. She wielded no power over me, no threat that she hung in front of my eyes while she made taunting remarks. I hated her to the point where she no longer could take away my time.

"Ladies! Ladies!" Éowyn interjected, stepping in between us. "There are better places and better times for such trivial disagreements, and might I remind both of you that the King would Not Be Pleased should he hear of this sort of name calling."

Now _that_ was a threat to be heeded, though I knew Éowyn would never talk. Already I had been unfortunate enough to come under Théoden'sdisappointment glare which was nothing short of deathly, and still not his worst glare.

Mortelia sent me her Glare of Death, which was not in the least as fatal as Théoden's and rather amusing at the same time, and stalked off to find her little friends.

Éowyn glanced at me, and before we even knew it, we were both laughing.

The news came as a shock, naturally. Nobody had expected this. Wormtongue, or my more affectionate term for him, "Wormy," was now Théoden's chief advisor, as well as chief of staff, which meant that _he_ wielded control over me. I hoped I would remain unnoticed and invisible in his sight.

There was no special ceremony at all. Théoden just gathered everyone into the hall, and announced it with Wormy before him, looking too smug to be naturally happy, but no one dared inform the King of that little revelation. We just stood there like idiots when he announced it, smiling politely and all of us wishing he would have chosen someone else (me), wishing that he would just get on with it and dismiss us (the staff), or wishing that he would just keep talking because it provided something for us to do (Mortelia and her friends).

The announcement lasted for a good fifteen minutes. Théoden gave a little speech about what a fine man Wormy was (if you really could describe him as a virile man), even though he really did not have to give any reasons for his choice at all (he was the King, of course). And everyone smiled and people cheered, but I could tell who really _was_ excited with Wormy's promotion from Nothing to Chief Counsellor/Advisor/What-Have-You, and who _wasn't_.

Krane's face was neutral: I could not tell what he was thinking. Mortelia was positively simpering at Gríma, giving him some _very_ suggestive winks which I am sure followed Mortelia usual path of Flirt, to the Bed, to the Fake Promises of Love, to Many Gifts, to Power. Mortelia really was a conniving little slut, always trying to sleep with Théodred, though he had some sense to stay away from her, I noticed. Éowyn and I smiled happily, though our smiles had never been sincere. And throughout all this, Gríma's smug face was beaming like the sun. Did I mention that he looked like he was sweating, only intensifying the stickiness of his black locks of hair?

Théoden finally dismissed the court and the staff, and began to order runners to spread the news all over Rohan. Bloody terrific.

I prayed that Théoden would forget all about me so I would not have to meet this man face to face, but though my luck held out through most of the afternoon, and faded like the cloud passing over the moon an hour before dinner.

I was confronted by the pair while in the library with Krane going over my written Westron. Just like in those sappy romantic books that Éowyn was always lending me, I was copying when two shadows came over from behind me. I turned to see, not a fabulously muscled/handsome/titled/wealthy man (as would occur in the novels), but rather the King himself and Wormy in tow. I stood and inclined my head respectfully toward them, as etiquette required.

"My dear, I wish that you would meet my new Chief Advisor, Lord Gríma Wormtongue." Théoden smiled expectantly at me afterr his statement. _He_ knows that he doesn't need my approval. Why does he want it?

Ah, so he got the title of 'Lord' too with this sudden promotion.

"It is an honor and a pleasure to meet such an esteemed Lord face to face," I said, even though I was keeping my eyes lowered respectfully. Flattery will get you everywhere, and hopefully my flattery would make him forget me and ignore me.

"It is _my_ privilege to meet such a beautiful young lady as yourself, Lady Ardeas." I thought it so funny when people argued over whose pleasure the meeting was. I glanced quickly up at him. Nope. He was not looking at my face, but rather almost leering at my chest. He probably thinks he is such a wooer of the ladies, whereas you need charm and looks to be a ladies man, and even then, only Mortelia's bunch are easily swayed by those guiles.

"Thank you, my Lord."

"I hope I shall see you again soon, Lady. Perhaps not under such formal circumstances where we are bound by the rules of decorum."

Well _that_ was a pretty forward statement, but it was cleverly disguised, I noticed. 'Not under such formal circumstances' my rump.

I plastered a smile on my face, "Perhaps."

Krane, I noticed, had been studiously avoiding the pair over by the windows, behind a new bookshelf that had been installed two months ago. Dirty stinker. I really should have called him out from behind the shelf.

The King smiled and led Wormy off to introduce to another group of people, possibly the simpering Mortelia and her group. What a whore.

He stepped out from behind the bookshelf, a faint smile on his face. "You should return to your copying."

I grinned, "You should scold them. They interrupted me."

He shook his head, keeping back light laughter. I knew now that he did not care much for Théoden's decision over Wormy. That thought made me feel a bit better, at least, better than before.

Dinner was torture chamber.

If I _ever_ have to sit next to that pig headed flirt who is so disgusting you can hardly breathe without smelling something awful, I think I will run away to Gondor.

Wormy sat between Éowyn and I that night, rather than taking Éomer's spot next to the King. He reeked, and I mustered every single ounce of my willpower not to pull another vomit-at-dinner night. My only safety was Éomer who squeezed my hand comfortingly under the table once in a while when I looked particularly ready to give Wormy a talking to. Éomer and Théodred pretended to ignore the fact that Gríma spent half of all his words at that table as flirts (the other half were praises to the King and the proposing of toasts to the King, who, sadly, was totally oblivious to any wrongdoing on the part of Gríma). I could almost see Éomer and Théodred bristle with not a little rage at the first foward comment Gríma made, which was unfortunately toward Éowyn. Éowyn responded to the very forward compliment and said, "Do you think so?" and said something inane about her mother not agreeing.

Food made me sick with all the flirting, and Théoden pointedly asked several times if I did not feel well. One time, Gríma answered for me, as if I wasn't there. Of all the cheek! He earned himself a Death Glare of mine, even if Éomer kept squeezing my hand to keep me from saying anything bold.

And by golly, when he was not talking and/or flirting, which was rare, he just _happened_ to keep bumping into me and Éowyn. I ended up spending most of the evening sitting precariously close to Éomer, giving Wormy a wide berth and forcing him to look more conspicuous when he tried to oh-so-accidentally bump into us. What an old fart. Men should never try to be flirty if they have pasty skin, no eyebrows, and smell like old urine and wet horses. Blech. I hope that Wormy becomes too full of himself and consequently refuses to join us lowly commoners to dinner.

I have known very few people who have no positive attributes, but this man, if you can call him that, has certainly joined my list of people with whom I would rather be dead than be associated. Wormy grinned suggestively at me as I prepared to rush back to the safe haven that was my room. I wanted to kill him.

I can safely say that Wormy's coming was a great success, for him at least. The only ones who liked him and were not trying to use him were usually too ignorant to really count in the grand scheme of things, though they did sadly have the advantage in numbers. The king was really the exception: he had a formal education, yet he was still fallible to the obvious lies of Wormy. It does not make a great deal of sense, but that is the way it is.

I spent a great deal of time beneath my blue velvet coverlet in my room staring at the ceiling as the firelight flashed across it like an intricate dance. I closed my eyes and slept.

Author's Note:

Because I could not find anything on Gríma Wormtongue's origins, I have chosen not to say (for fear of finding it somewhere later in an obscure piece of information), and merely surmised from the books that he was trained by Saruman, who was still then respected and heeded.

I've tentatively decided on a completion date, and by God I will finish this story by then. (I plan on adding the final chapter on the first anniversary of the first chapter). I'm really sorry writing has been so slow, but school has been bogging me down, but once examinations are done, I will write like crazy. I have a good idea on the ending of the story and how it is going, though still no official outline. And definitely after finishing this fanfiction, I will be revising it for the rest of July, if I can, and I hope to have my new multi-chaptered fanfiction out by then (I refuse to post it before this one is finished). Between now and then, I will occasionally write short vignettes, like I have. I am also writing a historical fiction which I may post at my fictionpress account, but probably not for a while. Please, check out my things, as I am very depressed/annoyed that no one has reviewed any of my stuff at all. I almost wish someone would flame me. Almost.

In closing, REVIEW, goshdarnit.


	13. Chapter Thirteen

Chapter XIII

(language warning)

What light that had made Meduseld a cheery place was rapidly disappearing. It had been only two months since Wormtongue assumed his position as Chief Advisor, and he had already had the windows on the roof covered with pitch and then straw. He claimed it was hurting his eyes. Yet, sadly, the large group of ignorant people who though he was the best chief advisor they'd had in years, mostly due to the fact that they had had no Chief Advisor of the King to look to, still had hope in this large sack of potatoes, who had noticeably gained a few pounds. Nothing like being corpulent, but thick all the same. He made me sick.

One thing that had improved (improvents in life were pretty goshdarn miraculous those days) was that Éowyn and I spent a lot more time together, for even with our very differing views on certain subjects, she was still my only real friend. Friendships between men and women were not really encouraged unless it was courtship, which was a little uncommon considering most marriages were arranged, so I could not have really be friends with Éomer or with Théodred, though even if I could have, Théodred was still giving me the cold shoulder because of my adoption. That didn't bother me very much. He was not very nice to a lot of people.

Éowyn and I escaped to the plains outside the city for whole days at a time. Mind you, we never went so far as that we could not have made it back to the city in a minute at a gallop (our compromise with Father when he found out, rather than taking armed guards), but it was still a ways away from everything. We talked for hours, only us, the wind, and the tall grass, and the occasional tick that I had had so much fun pulling out of Éowyn's skin, though sadly, she got used to them, and they don't bother her near as much as they did before. It was times when we watched the clouds pass by and the wind whistle through the grass that I wished Morwyn was with me. I could never really connect to Éowyn the same way that I had to Morwyn in just that short span of time that I had known her. I could never really open up to Éowyn. She had always been changing, and I had never felt that I could tell her safely of my problems with the King's rules and laws, or anything like that which was personal and might be considered treasonous or dangerous to say or even think.

---

"Do you ever miss her?" I had asked Éowyn one day as we watched the sky as our horses grazed nearby.

"Miss who?"

"Your mother."

"Yes, once in a while. It's not something I think about much."

"How much do you remember of her?"

"Only a little. She was a very quiet woman. Beautiful and self-possessed. I don't think she ever could be violent or wrathful. Disappointed, but not really angry. All that I remember of her is the pain of her illness. But even then, she always was trying to smile, as she lingered on. She had always been weak, sacrificing her best years toward myself, Éomer, and Father. And then while her health and dignity was hanging on by a thread, the illness just hacked it off like firewood. My last memory of her is when she was coughing up what looked like black syrup. I hope that never happens to me. I would prefer to die quickly with honor and valor, not in my bed when all is silent and no one is near, no one to say goodbye. Death is detestable by itself. It ruins lives, separates families and friends, and leaves what's left of the living languishing in its wake. But the worst death is the lonely death, with no valor and no comfort, where no one cries as you're buried, and no one cares either way."

_Sounds a bit familiar. Hmmm... I wonder who died and Éowyn didn't give a horse's ass about it..._, I thought sarcastically. The other side of my mind told me to be nice.

"But people cared when your mother died. People cried at her funeral. And she didn't die alone."

"Perhaps that is what occurred," Éowyn spat bitterly and not a little cynically and sarcastically as if remembering a contradicting anamnesis.

We didn't talk much more after that. There was too much emotion in that little patch of plains so we left. It was one of those days where nothing really works, and you feel like horse shit.

We rode back to Edoras in silence. The wind whipped through everything and stung my eyes, and I couldn't see very well. I just wanted to stop and go to sleep right then. A nice easy sleep is what I wanted then, one to forget everything and everyone just for a few hours, screw the consequences of staying outside of the city over night. The horse knew however that if it didn't make it back to the city, it would have to do without a warm, cosy stable and hot mash and apples, so it wearily trudged alongside Éowyn's horse. We made it to the gates with no explosive arguments between us and only hard feelings on my part for the last part of Éowyn's little speech. The guards saluted smartly to Éowyn and myself, one of the perks of being female, though I would have preferred women to have more respect earned socially and politically rather than in just formal manners.

The city had always seemed a little happy before Wormy's untimely appearance. Now it was turning dark and dismal. People stopped and watched us like we were a funeral march for some unknown noble faraway. They looked appropriately sad but a little empty as well because they did not care for the dead man. People wore black, and the only sound of communication was a little girl who was being chased about by slightly older boys. Usually children were gently scolded for such teasing of each other, but none of the adults stopped them, or even said anything. They just watched us as our horses marched up the hill toward Meduseld. The Rohirrim were a solemn people, but was not this a bit much?

If Éowyn noticed the uncanny silence of the people, she did not remark on it.

---

Watching sunsets in Edoras are very painful, so I do not do it frequently, but on the rare occasion that I do sit on the steps, trying to pretend that I am alone without the two guards on duty next to the doors (put there by Théoden after much cajoling by Wormtongue), it is an experience that I remember. The way that the sky turns this glorious symphony of pinks, oranges, reds, and blue with Sun streaming his bright yellow light across a sky so vast, as if he were dying, yet desperately trying to make one last and final mark on the waking world cannot be described as less than magnicifient, if it can be described at all. The light seems to reach out like a hand, touching everything in sight, brushing and fondly caressing old memories of a time so long forgotten, like someone returning to their homeland many lifetimes after they had left, but unable to stay for a moment longer than to glance, touch, remember, and then smile.

I cannot tell you why I find this utter perfectionate beauty to be painful, but if you were here with me to watch the sunsets, I think that you would understand.

---

My little memory time was interrupted by some footsteps behind me. The guards never moved, or at least I had never seen the guard change, so I looked behind me to see who would approach me in my private time to myself.

It was _him_.

My eyes narrowed in revulsion at his black furs and his greasy hair, but I stood and curtseyed respectfully to Wormy. He smelled of liquor, though he did not look drunk.

"My dear, my dear: there is no need to stand for me." That was a lie. But I gave a fake smile like I loved doing it anyway. His eyes glinted in his joy over his supposed control over me. "Please sit down."

I sat.

"Would you mind it ever so terribly if I joined you?"

I felt like slapping his face, but that would have resulted in very dangerous repercussions. I lifted my hand and indicated a spot beside me on the step. I tried not to give my opinion of him as I was a horrible liar, and he seemed like a person who would see through lies immediately, considering how hee made most of them.

When he sat down, his furs took more than half of the seat, and I was forced to move over a good ways so it would not look inappropriate to any passers by.

He did not look at me when he spoke, for which I was eternally thankful.

"You have grown into a beautiful young woman, Lady Ardeas."

I held my chin in my hands, pretending to be calm and casual, like I was talking to an old friend instead of a political and social enemy. I didn't like where this was going. I wanted scream and begin to sob and run back to my room and cry in my pillow like a little girl.

I didn't respond and hoped that was the right thing to do.

"Have you considered the fact that a few women your age are already married, and that the rest will be married soon?"

Ahh, the old marriage gag. I considered marriage in the same way a five year old considered marriage: something that was too far ahead in time to really give much thought to in practical terms. Éowyn had finally explained how babies were made, as much as she knew at least which was little. I had so many questions, but I could never really discuss it with anyone. It was a taboo subject, only spoken of under extreme duress, and that was hardly common.

"A little," I admitted.

"A little?" he asked, clearly astonished, "I should have thought marriage to be one of the most defining occurrences in a female's life!"

So he did have some intellect behind those pale eyes, pallid skin, and cruel, twisting mouth. I would have thought otherwise.

"It concerns me little."

He gave a sigh of dismay that sounded a not a little feigned. I hope he didn't think that now because we were having a conversation we were becoming friends. And whenever I looked into his eyes, he seemed so soft and kind, like Éomer or Théoden. It seemed like he tried to weave a magical spell around whomever to whom he was speaking. Nay, not a spell. A spider's web, with the promise of happiness and glory at the depths of his eyes. But I knew it was a lie. It made me trust him all the less, which of course did not overly concern him if he guessed. I had no power in the court. Théoden did not listen to my "radical" ideas, mostly because I was a female, and then because they usually contradicted what he had already done in his career as king, and heaven forbid that the king should be wrong.

"My lady, I feel I should be frank with you. There are several men of the court of whom I would like you to take exceptional notice. Perhaps a journey to Gondor may help you choose a mate."

It took every ounce of strength to stay in my seat. I held my hands together to keep him from seeing that they were shaking. Marriage? I had thought something along the lines of "take a look at that fine gentleman over in the corner," but by golly he was _utterly_ serious about everything.

Shit.

I looked at him in a composed manner, as if he had just told me he expected light rain tonight. The fading light struck his face in an ominous fashion. He turned to me and smiled. I saw straight through it. It was almost as if he wanted me out of the picture. He had probably heard about some of my radical ideas, of which since his arrival I had kept mostly to myself. He might have seen me as a very potential threat. Fat lot I could do, I thought caustically.

"Myself, for that matter, Ardeas. I am, after all, Chief Advisor to your King and Father."

He reached out an white hand to my face, as his smile faded into something else altogether. This was my breaking point.

I pulled back and stood up away from him. I was going to say what was on the tip of my tongue, damn the consequences. He needed to learn that I was not going to marry anyone for a while, and that I was not the least interested in his advances or almost-proposal.

He looked me in a fashion that I could not quite place.

"Do not flatter yourself, Lord Wormtongue," I said as maliciously as I could. I could just barely hear the gasps of the guards.

His face turned furious, and I regretted my sentence.

He made to stand and opened his mouth while doing so, but I did not care to hear what he had to say.

With a "If you will excuse me, my lord," I used my skirts to maximize my dramatic departure and swept back into Meduseld and retreated to the library. I smiled grimly when I heard a faint call from outside that sounded liked a furious Wormy.

---

Krane was in the library, but took no notice of me when I entered and began copying the next day's lesson. I was in such a state that I botched the neatness of handwriting twice, violently scratching out the writing with my quill before finally shoving the paper aside with an irritated sigh followed by the plop of my pen onto the desk beside the ink well. I laid my head on the desk.

Krane got up from his desk and moved behind me and laid a comforting hand on my back. He pulled the paper back toward me and then handed me a white handkerchief. How had he known that I had been crying?

"Ardeas, you know that you can do better than this." He pointed at my writing.

I nodded, blew my nose, and wiped my eyes.

He glanced at with my runny nose and my wet eyes staring blankly at the book shelves.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Krane could be a typical male at times, but he goshdarn knew when something was up and when it was time to play sensitive and protective father/older brother figure. He patted my back softly as I supported my head with my arms.

"Wormtongue asked that I look around for single men of stature, even journey to Gondor for an alliance to strengthen Gondor and Rohan's ties."

"That is expected, Ardeas. I cannot imagine why that would put you in tears. Surely you knew that that would be expected of you, a woman now considered a noble."

"Of course, but not this soon. I had expected it to always be a little later. But that was not what upsetted me."

He rubbed my back in a comforting manner with his one hand. He waited for me to continue.

"Well, he suggested that I might consider marrying him."

Krane choked back a laugh which turned it into a ridiculous confused sort of chortle.

"'Tis not funny! I find him thoroughly vile, and I am almost certain he knows of that oh-so-minor detail. It almost could be called a proposal."

"Well? What did you say?" Krane said, with a amusement very evident in his voice.

"I told him to not flatter himself."

Krane burst out laughing. In fact, he had to sit down on the couch to keep from falling over. I turned around and scowled at him. This was completely serious, and not a little disturbing. I did not find it all funny.

When he had finally calmed down and wiped his own tears from his eyes, he said to me while smiling, "I wish you could see the humor in the situation, Ardeas. I am certain you would die laughing."

I glowered at him. "As of right now, death sounds like a wonderful option compared to marrying Gríma."

Krane sobered instantly. "I do not think you would find death a more pleasant choice than marriage to anyone. I think you naïve to even consider death as an option. Remember what it was like to see Morwyn die. Do not ever let me hear you say you would rather have death again."

That completely ruined whatever cheerfulness there was in the room. He pointed vaguely in the direction of the desk and muttered "Continue working," before leaving me alone in the room.

"Brilliant, Ardeas," I murmured to myself. I did not quite agree with Krane. There could be some matrimonial situations worse than death, but I made a pledge to myself to never argue the point again as I was wary to see the wrath of Krane who could easily kill me/maim me sans any weapons.

I sighed, but it was not an irritated sigh, but rather a frustrated sigh. I was so stupid sometimes. I should have been polite to His Malodorous Wormtongue, and I definitely should have tried to find some humor in the situation so death would never have been brought up with Krane. And he had all the nerve to mention Morwyn too, as if he expected me to cease to remember the look upon her face when she died.

I stopped talking to myself inside my head. It was probably not healthy.

AN: I have recently discovered that odd music does wonders to my incentive to write. I just listened to Klaus Nomi's _Total Eclipse_ and I feel like exploding with all the ideas I could write right now. He's really cool, but if you don't think he appears to be really weird, look up a few pictures of him on Yahoo! or Google. You'll know what I mean when I say that I doubt that he is a member of the human race. 

C'mon people, I'm really getting depressed over lack of reviews. A writer can write without feedback, but it really helps (thanks to chou-fleur for being one reviewer who still reads). As pointed out to me by Angelica and Bast, my story does need a whole lot of work, but I do think that it has noticeably improved in the later chapters. I promise everyone that I plan on revising as soon as I finish it, but it's depressing when only one person reviews consistently to tell me about my story, and with fewer than expected reviews on my last chapter, I don't know if I'll feel motivated enough to finish this story on schedule, though I desperately want to. So if you can, please write me a note on _Ardeas_. Thanks.

Yours,

Regnet


	14. Chapter Fourteen

Chapter XIV

I knew that I was in for it when Théoden/Father would find me, probably still copying the next day's lesson in the library. My mind had morbidly envisioned him practically purple with rage, screaming at me for my impudence, audacity, boldness, and anything else that he could name. My mind replayed it over and over again in my head. I could not even envision what my punishment would be. It would probably be suggested by Wormy himself, and I would loathe it for many days, if not years. I had stabbed Wormy's pride straight to its heart, and it was a wound that he would immediately seal up with cruelty, patience, and anything that could hurt anyone who so much as challenged him again. Would I be _removed_? Would I be forced into a marriage that was not even a choice of male that was usually promised? Would I have to marry Gríma? And what then? What would happen on our wedding night? What would he do?

I drowned in terror, and I could almost see Théoden sign my death warrant, at Wormy's request, on charges of treason for an insult to his Chief Advisor. Sweat rolled down my face as my eyes saw everything that would be done to me. Everything that would hurt me. I did not even realize I had fallen asleep when Éowyn woke me with a cup of something that smelled awful.

"Ardeas! Awake! Uncle requests your presence in his study. And you are in a state! Here drink this."

I was not given a choice, as she practically shoved the cup in front of me.

"Rhya says it is good for anxiety. Some of the noblemen drink this like ale." She chuckled to herself.

I sniffed the liquid suspiciously and nearly gagged, but I plugged my nose and downed it as quickly as possible. It felt like a slug was crawling down my throat. But I was rewarded a few seconds later feeling much better, and a little lighter. I felt like I could stare down anything.

"Good. Now come. You know how Uncle detests being kept waiting."

Something in her tone caught me a little off guard. I looked at her as clandestinely as possible. Did I catch amusement in her voice? Or something else? It was always hard to tell how Éowyn was feeling unless she told one. I gave an inaudible irritated sigh at myself. I was like a damn open book. Anybody and everybody could see straight through any lie that I said. Hopeless.

I wish it would have taken longer to get to Théoden King's study, but it took only a short time, and when we reached it, my heart was beating so loud I am sure the people in Minas Tirith could here it. The punishment had better not be nearly as bad as the examples that my imagination was feeding my brain.

"I will leave you here," said Éowyn, and she departed but a moment later, leaving me awkwardly standing in front of the door to the study. I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and knocked on the door.

"Come in," came Théoden's voice. It was a little changed, I noticed. He seemed weary and tired, as if he had trudged leagues upon leagues, but still had more to go.

I came into the room and saw Théoden tiredly staring through some papers. Wormy, to my immediate, though hidden, disgust stood behind him, glaring at me.

Théoden motioned to a chair before his desk, "Sit down, child."

"Yes, Father," I answered in the meekest voice possible.

I looked at Wormy out of the corner of my eye. His smile reminded me of that of a child who had not wanted to share his toy and then screamed and wailed until the adult, in an exasperated voice, had promised to give it back.

Wormy leered at me from behind the desk, not that it would have mattered. He could made passes at me right here and now, and Théoden would not have noticed.

"Now, it has come to my attention..."

Inwardly, I cringed. He took that precise moment to take a sip of ale from the flagon next to him.

"...that you have offended my chief councilor and advisor."

His glance was not angry, wrathful or anything of that sort. He just looked so tired, not even really annoyed. I felt awful. This appeared to be taxing him, even this. His mouth showed a hint of a smile, as if he thought what I had said funny, but it vanished as quickly as it came, replaced by a weary look.

"Do not do it again, child. Do not forget your place in this household." His voice sounded as if he just wanted to go back to bed and not be bothered. I nodded my head respectfully but looked at him curiously. He was over sixty, but he had always been hale for his age. I wondered why he should change now.

Wormy was there before I could comment on the King's weariness.

"My lord and King, perhaps you are too tired to continue. If you would allow me, I would take care of this trivial matter so that you could rest."

I glared at Wormy who sneered at me. If we had been neutral parties then, we were definitely at war now. Let him come.

But Théoden waved it off. "Now, Lord Wormtongue, this is important. Perhaps when this is over I will retire for the night. But this is too important to lay by the wayside. Please, leave us. I would prefer to speak to my daughter alone."

"As you wish, your Majesty."

If Wormtongue could have stepped on my toe onthe way out, I think he would have, but he would have had to have walked over to me, and that might have been an eensy bit conspicuous.I gave a sarcastically sweet smile to him on his way out. Victory was mine.

Théoden cleared his throat, and I turned my attention back to him.

"Yes, Father?"

He gave a light cough, and I began to doubt whether he had the strength to give a real cough at all. I did not dare ask to fetch him tea or anything of the like. The look on his face said he was going to finish whatever it was he had to say and damn anyone who tried to stop him.

"Ardeas, I believe my councilor had the correct idea, if perhaps the wrong means."

I struggled to keep an unladylike snort inside me.

"You have grown into a beautiful young woman, and whether you like it or not, I do think it is time that you at least began thinking about a husband."

He paused for effect, probably expecting me to run screaming from the room like that infamous incident that now seemed so very long ago. I gave a hesitant smile and hoped he would continue. I just wanted to get this over with. It was too much to drag out.

"I hope you know," said he, leaning back in his chair, folding his hands on his stomach, "what sort of opportunity I am affording you. Many women of your age and stature are not permitted to have any sort of choice in the matter of their husbands. It is rare that any woman should choose her own husband."

I nodded, hoping he could interpret it any way he took it. He thought I was thanking him. He smiled at me, but it did no help. I felt as worthless as ever.

"I have thought about this matter greatly, and though a husband of Gondor would strengthen our ties greatly, I believe you are much too young for such a long journey. If you would find it better, you might consider speaking with Éowyn. I think that she would help you."

Brilliant. Absolutely brilliant.

By putting off this magical fairy tale journey to Gondor, he was only delaying the inevitable. Oh yes, that made me feel _so_ much better.

"But Gondor is not the only option, child. There are many eligible young men living here in Meduseld." He smiled kindly at me, "It would please me greatly to see you happily married. And I do not think Théodred will be marrying soon, and that distresses me greatly." He smiled in a hopeful manner. It was so pathetically sad, I wanted to help him. But I was not entirely sure of losing my innocence so he could become a grandfather. At least I think that was the object of his hinting. I knew for a fact that Théodred had, shall we say, known a few women. Surely he could be arranged into a marriage. He was approaching forty and still unmarried, a very rare occurrence as most men were married before twenty or just after, seldomly after thirty, and very unusually after forty. By age 30, unmarried men were expected to remain lifelong bachelors for whatever reason, and usually these reasons were not made public. I had never expected Théodred to be married, but now more than I ever, I wished he would. I could not bear refusing Théoden of such an virtuous thing as wanting to be a grandfather, but could I not wait until I was twenty before losing my maidenhood to some man who probably would not care about me and leave the marriage bed for anyone, and anything, including small animals, and then push me down a long flight of stairs if I even gave a passing thought to another man, while I could do nothing. It was simply the way life worked for women.

But Théoden was sitting there, having leaned forward toward me, smiling so sadly, so wearily, that I felt that I had to marry soon, or he would die of grief.

He sat back in his chair in a more proper posture and cleared is throat.

"You may go now, Ardeas."

I stood and curtseyed respectfully. As I was at the door, he stopped me with a final sentece.

"You will consider what I have told you and perhaps talk to Éowyn on this?"

"Yes, Father," said I.

He nodded to me, sighed, and turned back to his papers. He made me feel as if I had eaten a baby. I removed the word 'baby' from my head. Bad description.

I wandered for a bit before returning to my room and collecting sewing that Éowyn had insisted I learn. I took it all down to a small reading room next to the library (which really did not serve a purpose as there were chairs in the library itself) and sat next to a fire in the large hearth and began to mend a jacket of mine, ruining stitch after stitch. I finally pulled the thread out and threw it all into the small basket and stared into the fire until I fell asleep.

--

I wakened a good deal of time later with a horrendous pain in my back from sitting in the wooden chair. The fire had nearly gone out and only a few glowing hot coals cast an eery light around the room. With the fire nearly dead, the room had grown cold. I sighed and began to pick up my basket and depart for my room.

It is all very quiet in the halls, so dark I can barely see in front of me, and I most likely would have run into something if I had not known Meduseld as well as I did. I made up my mind as I approached my room. I was going to, by any means necessary, get Éowyn and I outside Meduseld to talk. There was too much welled up inside of me, and I needed to get it out to someone before I burst.

--

Sleep did not enter my room for the longest time, so I spent at least an hour, if not more, contemplating the various things that came upon my mind. One matter in particular raised itself up and forced me to consider it.

What exactly would "knowing" a man be like? Éowyn had said that when one of the women of the court, on request of Théoden, had told her what lay between a man and a woman. When Éowyn described it to me after I asked how people were made, she desribed in the barest details about what made a man a man and a woman a woman and how that all had to do with making a child. She said that the first time a man or a woman had done such things, they had lost their innocence and that they would never be the same again. She did not know if that was for the better or the worse when I asked her.

The more I think about it, I am, to say the least, scared to lose my innocence. I tried to be more confident with myself about this whole "losing one's innocence" idea by saying things like "I am _not_ going to have something stolen from me by any man." You have most certainly guessed that it did not help. I was still scared, and I was still apprehensive as to how I would bring up this conversation with Éowyn.

Perhaps I should not bring it up at all.

I could move on with my life, and when Théoden was tired of waiting for me to choose, I would marry whomever he chose and bear that man's children if any. I would-

The thought was banished into the furthest reaches of my mind. I could never stand that.

I sighed and closed my eyes in one last valiant attempt to sleep and was pleasantly surprised to find myself growing drowsy. It is a wonderful feeling to be at the one final spot in the waking world before entering the world of rest and sleep. It is too bad we do not quite realize exactly when we fall into slumber.

AN: Sorry for any of you on author alert if you got the alert twice. The document went beserk and I did not realize that I had uploaded a whole bunch of blank little boxes in place of story. I now officially hate Windows, and I am going to buy an Apple. Because I type all my stuff on an old windows 95, I have to transfer them via floppy (remember them?) to the family computer for uploading, so while perusing this chapter, I realized that the cute little boxes had Xed out a good bit of my story when I had though it was only one word, so I spent a good deal of type rushing back and forth between computers, reading and memorizing from Lucille (my windows 95) and scurrying over to Denise (the plucky family computer who has a bad tendency to just blink at me, refusing to do what I ask of it, and then after a few pointed remarks on my part ie swears it crashes, mostly out of spite, I think. Denise is still a toddler.). I HATE floppies and/or Windows. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed,

Sincerely,

Regnet

Yes, I name computers, and while Lucille is official since it is my computer, Denise has not been accepted by the rest of the family. :( I also plan on naming my first car Susie. And yes, I am aware that I am slightly insane. No need to write me about that. :D


	15. Chapter Fifteen

Chapter XV

Éowyn was not much help at all. She really could not answer any of my questions and the only thing that she said that was new was that I should never ever disobey my elders (which really was not new either). If I was married off to some womanizing, sleazy, multiple bed warmer, I was supposed to just sit through it and smile happily. Oh, yes, that made me feel _much_ better.

The times did not help much either. There were increased orc skirmishes along the Westfold, and no one was quite sure from where they had come. Éomer came back one time with a very nasty scrape on his sword arm that put him out of commission for a few months. Éowyn and I had been drafted by the healers to help, as the healers were stretched almost too far trying to tend to all the men who came back with injuries, which luckily, for the most part, tended to be minor, though too major to be tended to on the patrol.

Éowyn held Éomer's other hand as he lay on the bed, talking to him about nothing in particular. She did not speak of bravery or courage or tell him that he had done his best. She talked about the most random things, and it was ruining my concentration.

I was no stranger to blood, Morwyn's suicide had made sure of that, but there always was something sickening about it, no matter how much. I used to pass out at the very sight of it, the only time I had not was of course when Morwyn killed herself, rather odd since it was the most blood I had seen in my lifetime. But by now, I had cured myself to only a little paleness and small shaking in my hands. I uncorked a bottle of wine, not any of the good stuff, but medicinal wine used to disinfect wounds. Éomer winced with discomfort as it spread it liberally over his lower arm with a bit of linen. The healer, whose name I did not catch, was in the corner preparing some sort of wicked painful salve which he told me I was to spread over the wound and then bandage it with another strip of linen. The healer looked to be well past middle-age, his grey hair was matted, and there were lines under his eyes from lack of sleep. He moved quickly and efficiently, not a movement of flourish anywhere, not a spark of true life. He made only necessary moves. I finished wiping the cut; the scab had broken slightly, and blood began to ooze slowly. Éowyn chattered on. She was the only one in the room speaking.

The healer finished, turned, and handed me a small, short jar that was missing a lid. He handed me to new pieces of linen, one to bandage and the other to spread the salve. He gave a hint of a smile, but departed quickly.

I stared at the salve for but a moment. It did not look particularly comfortable. I set the bandage aside, and dipped the other piece of linen into the liniment. I nearly jumped back when Éomer gave a faint, painful groan at the touch of the cloth. But I kept dabbing.

"Remember the picnics we had down at the glen when we were small? I don't think we had them often, but they were so much fun..."

The salve was difficult to control. It looked mildly solid in the jar, but moved about wildly over Éomer's arm, leaving brownish ink marks as trails.

"...that time when I spilled the goat's milk all over the blanket that mother had worked on for so long, and I nearly ruined it in a moment..."

The ointment trailed down the side of Éomer's arm and threatened to hit the covers, which I almost knew would leave a nasty stain, or worse. I swiftly used the cloth to bring the droplets back up before they touched the sheets.

The darkness of the room made my job all the more difficult. Many lighted candles sat around the room, wax dripping slowly.

"...and the time we ate apples while sitting in the tree and you fell off and broke your arm. Mother was furious..."

As she went on, Éowyn's voice seemed to get a little unnaturally high pitched. I do not know exactly why she was getting panicky: the wound was small and probably would have healed on its own without too much trouble.

My breathing became a little unsteady. I needed to get out of this room. I needed to see sunlight again. The darkness in this stale room was doing something odd to me.

"...how I played with my dolls, and you would always try to collapse my dollhouse because you thought it was funny when I made the dolls' agonized screams with my own voice..."

I held my breath to keep from breathing too fast as I put the last of the liniment on the wound. The room smelled musty and old.

"...and the girl from that village who fell in love with you and it took her _such_ a long time to realize you had no interest in her..."

Éomer lay on the bed staring at the ceiling, waiting for it to be over. He looked occasionally at Éowyn, who still blabbed on like a six year old, and at me as I began to gently wrap his arm with the strip of linen that would serve as a bandage.

I blocked out Éowyn's voice as best I could. I tied the bandage firmly, but not tightly. Rohan did not need a Marshall and second in line to the throne to have his sword arm fall off due to lack of circulation.

I watched Éomer's face surreptitiously as I gathered everything up to set on the dresser for the healer to gather up for a new injurée. His face was sweaty, in fact, his whole body was slightly damp. It was warm, no fever, but it seemed unnatural. He closed his eyes wearily, and I wondered if he was trying to sleep. I did not see how he would be able to sleep at all if Éowyn kept chattering like an excited squirrel. Stars, she was becoming acutely irritating.

"Lady Éowyn," I said sharply, using her title to grasp her attention. She tried to glare at me for interrupting her sharing of memories, but mostly failed. "Please take these materials to the north corner. I am quite sure they are performing a minor surgery, and these may be needed."

That was a blatant lie. I had no experience in healing or medicines. I could stitch a cut and follow directions, but I knew nothing of how to perform a surgery. But I knew that I had to have Éowyn do something, or she would just sit here and waste away.

Éowyn stood, swaying slightly. I endeavored to keep my eyes on the ground or on some other unpretentious thing. I think she would have exploded if I made eye contact. She grabbed everything, staring at me like a drunkard while she did so. What on Arda was wrong with her?

She tripped something dangerous and obtrusive (ie, the floor) on her way out, but caught herself. I did not comment at all, and I lett out a weary sigh of relief when the door slammed closed after she left.

Éomer spoke for the first since Éowyn and I saw him off on the patrol on which he had been injured.

"What happened to her?"

His voice was hoarse, and not a little rusty, like a door that had not been opened in a very long time. I took a ladle and dipped it in a bucket of cold water, and moved it toward his lips.

"I think she was panicking a little. She should be all right."

He nodded and used his other hand to take the ladle from me as I meant to held it to his mouth. He smiled kindly and said, "I am not quite a total invalid."

I smiled back. He lifted the ladle to his lips and drank. I motioned toward the bucket, asking if he wanted anymore. He shook his head and gave the ladle back to me. He then turned on his side and fell asleep. I shook my head and smiled.

I put the ladle back in the bucket and moved it to the door. The healer had asked me to put it next to the door when Éomer was finished with it so a healer could open the door and get it without disturbing the patient. I gave a glance back at Éomer.

A strange feeling welled up inside me as I looked at him softly sleeping. I felt much older, like forty years old, maybe forty-five. I stifled a light chuckle with my hand. I moved back to him, pulled the blanket up, and moved his arms under it, being careful to move the injured one as slowly and carefully as I could. I pulled the blanket up to his neck and carefully tucked it in around him, for no reason whatsoever. He looked so different in sleep. I patted his cheek and left.

Being a mother would not be so awful, sometimes.

---

I opened the door and stepped out into the hall, only to find Wormtongue coming down it. I was in no mood for a confrontation, and I suspected he might what to flirt with me or, heaven forbid, make a pass. For even though I had humiliated him and those guards spread it around like wildfire, he knew that I would be a good match. Yuck.

Think fast think fast. Where could I go? Had he seen me yet? I should have let me maternal instincts brood a bit more back in there with Éomer. I darted down the hallway as quickly as I dared, hoping he would not recognize me from behind.

Brilliant idea. Bloody brilliant.

"Lady Ardeas!" he called out.

I pretended I could not hear and broke into a light trot. I turned and slipped into the room affectionately known as the "place of bowel stress," plugging my nose against the unbearably, writhingly-awful stench, and hoped he would not follow. This room had a reputation, and I intended to use it to my best advantage. I heard him pause outside the door, contemplating whether I was worth _this_ room. He walked away. I guess not. He wandered off, probably to find somebody else to latch onto and suck the life away from it. He had a bad tendency to do that; figuratively, of course.

After a few minutes, I opened the door cautiously and peered outside. Wormy was gone. Good. I had no intention of speaking with him again, if I could help it. I stepped out and closed the door behind me; I then decided I would go to the library. The healers knew to find me either there, my room, or on the practice field walking and occasionally watching the men swear at each other.

Cursing was a bizarre practice of conversation and greeting practiced by men who fought, while they swung swords at one another, infrequently making contact, causing the man who was hit to imprecate repeatedly and the man who hit him to give a snort/grunt as it would be too feminine to giggle. What _was_ it with men and masculinity? Did they have to be crude and disgusting because they thought breasts would appear if they did not? I choked back laughter at the thought of Théodred in a long lavender evening gown making eyes at soldiers. After a moment's thought, I quickly came to the conclusion that all men, with a few small exceptions like Krane and Éomer, were insane.

I reached the library without much further ado. Krane had, by now, finished tutoring me in speaking, reading, and writing Rohirric as well as reading and writing Westron. I was very proud of the fact that I could carry on an intelligible conversation in Rohirric and that I could read many of the difficult books in the library. However my glory in knowing two languages was rather short lived, as in Gríma's words, "The language known as Westron should be discouraged and only Rohirric should be spoken so as to increase national unity." I did not see what a big difference it made if we spoke Westron or Rohirric. Gondor spoke Westron, and they were the most powerful nation on Middle-earth. Krane was now teaching me a great deal of geography, history, and science. He said it was unusual for a woman to be interested in knowledge, but that he would teach me anyway.

Unfortunately, the library was empty; Krane must have been in his room. The books in Westron had been banished by Gríma to a small corner before their destruction later. Tomorrow, in fact, the Westron books were to be burned. Théoden, heavily under Wormy's guidance, much to my dismay, planned it to be a large celebration of the national individual: Rohan was independent and would not be bound by the rest of the world. "We will rise in power and greatness, and no one will share our glory, Rohan's glory," said Gríma in an address which scared the living daylights out of me. We were to have a grand party tomorrow as collectively we burned the Westron books. I was among a select group of people silently opposed to the burning. Krane and I scavanged through all the books in the library and took as many as we dared from the collection before absences would be noticed. I stood in the library now, looking at the books that would be burned tomorrow. I quickly scanned the titles, looking for one that I had liked. I chose one and began to read it, the last time the book in my hands would be read. That was an awful thought.

I did not quite realize when I began to doze, but through eyelids barely opened I noticed Wormy come quietly into the library. I wakened fully, but kept my same position. At first I wondered why Gríma was in Edoras at all, as most men except the wounded were out on the patrol along the borders in the East and Westfolds, notably the Westfold. But then I remembered that Wormy had made it a habit not to do his duty and help out, but instead had chosen to lounge about Edoras, deceiving the king (of which nothing could be proved), and eating Rhya's pastries that were covered in glazes as white as his skin.

He turned, noticed me, and ambled over to the chair in which I was sitting. He gave a quick glance to me, making sure I was asleep or similarly unmoving, then pulled the book from my hands. The pages were turned rapidly, and he glanced at them, not quite reading, but checking, most likely the language. He gave a nod of satisfaction to himself and smugly and perhaps cruelly smiled and then placed the book back in my hands. Stars, he reeked. His smell seemed to be morphing into something more disgusting daily. Today, it seemed that the aroma of the day was old urine. It took a great deal of strength not to plug my nose, or at least twitch.

I nearly blew my cover when Éowyn came into the room. She was the last person I had expected to come into the room with me pretending to sleep as Gríma check the language of the book, for political purposes, that I was reading.

She turned stiff at the sight of Gríma. She curtsied, short, respectful, and in a keep-your-distance manner. He smiled and spoke poison, something inane about her hair or her gown.

Her lips moved, and her teeth flashed prettily in her smile. The smile did not reach her eyes however. It was amazing how Éowyn and I could tell when the other was lying. Considering how many times Gríma lied, it was a marvel that he did not catch on to her annoyance of his character. He tipped his head respectfully, something I had only seen him do to her, and quitted the room.

Éowyn looked at me and saw straight through my guise.

"You can't fool me with that trick anymore, Ardeas."

I opened my eyes fully and sighed, setting the "un-Rohirric" book on the small end table.

"I know." A pause. I eyed her from where I sat. She half-glared at me. "I am sorry I sent you away, but you were becoming panicky."

Éowyn gave an irritated sigh, but said nothing, silently agreeing that I was at least partially right, but not wanting to say anything else to further the subject.

---

Tears are no match for flames. I had begged Théoden last night to spare the books, but to no avail. He lashed out at me and said something very cruel. I did not respond. He turned away a moment and apologized: he did not know what had come over him. He said stress. I knew what the problem was but heaven forbid that it should be Gríma. I asked that could Krane and I take the books to the bonfire instead of anybody else. Few understood books at all, and I felt that the last people who held them should at least care about them.

"Yes, you may."

---

It was night. There were no clouds, but I could see no stars. I half moon winked at the revelers in the night sky. The collection of Westron books sat next to the bonfire waiting for Gríma's signal. The whole of Edoras had come out for the celebration; people were drinking and laughing, eating and talking in loud voices. I sat on the steps that led up to Meduseld as the fire burned brightly in the street. It danced and ordinarily I would have seen it as something exotic and sensual. But tonight, the fire seemed to smile maliciously. The books and what was written in them would never be heard again. Each time it crackled, I heard laughter.

Gríma Wormtongue walked to the podium and raised his hands, commanding silence. A hush quickly fell over the crowd. Somebody's snort of laughter hung in the air, making the woman on the opposite side of me blush hotly and duck down.

Gríma smiled at everyone. People hesitantly smiled back as one does when one is hoping an animal will not attack you.

"People of Rohan! Tonight is a night of celebration! For tonight we celebrate our individualism as the people of Rohan! We are independent! We belong to none! We will not be bound by the rules of the rest of the world! We will choose our own destiny! No foreigner will ever rule us! We will always be the nation of Rohan!"

A roar went up from the crow and a burst of applause quickly followed. Krane sat down beside me. His red hair looked different in the light of the fire.

"Did you notice his little speech was copied word for word from a book in Westron?"

We both smiled at that but it was soon dampened by what Wormy had to say next.

"Now the time has come to purge all foreign influences in the Rohirrim society! Burn the Westron books!"

The time had come. With tears rushing to the back of my eyes, threatening to spill over my eyelids, Krane and I stood, and walked through the crowd to a pile of books for the burning. Krane stood back a little, allowing me to throw the first book. I lifted one from the pile: it was the book with the twins in it.

"Goodbye," I whispered, not hardly moving my lips so no one could see that I was "un-Rohirric."

I stared at the book in the silence. The fire crackled contemptuously.

Krane nudged me, and I threw the book into the fire with all my might, all the anger at Gríma finding the worst possible outlet.

Apparently, Théoden had not told Gríma about his little agreement with me, for as soon as I threw the book into the fire, people around me began to pick up the books and throw them into the fire. They laughed and cried aloud that Rohan would belong to no one. I began to cry miserably and Krane pulled me away from the scene. We were soon joined by Éowyn and Éomer. Together we sat on the porch and watched it all safely away from it. I cried into Éowyn's shoulder. She made no move to stop me.

---

AN: The trouble will really start in the next chapter.

I just realized how impractical my finishing date is. It really is too bad, and I really wrote a great deal more than I usually do, but I am going to be on vacation all next week so finishing the story by Tuesday is improbable. Never fear, I will _not_ give up the story and I will write when I can, and I will see if I can write on the plane trip to Denver, barring that the person next to me decides to not be nosy and read what I'm writing, which is something I can never stand.

I really, really would like a bit more reviews than I am getting per chapter on this chapter. If I had a digital camera, I would bake cookies, take a picture of them, upload them to my site, and give you reviewers a link so you could at least see some cookies for reviewing. But alas, I am technologically having problems. Lucille (for those of you who don't know Lucille, Lucille is my Windows 95 that I write all this on and then transfer it via floppy to Denise, the plucky family computer who likes to sleep, ie crash, a lot) has a problem with the floppy drive. Brilliant. Lucille's floppy drive, which I have now dubbed (censored), likes to now copy documents onto floppy drives, but X out sections of it. This has led me to much agony and hate, followed by happiness that I will be getting a new computer in August. Well, when I say "new," I mean new in the same Cro-Magnon way. I'll be getting a Windows 98 computer that has the same floppy problem, but this time has internet access. Like jumping from a cauldron of boiling water into a poisoned lake. I think I will get a job next summer to finance a new computer...

I have written a good deal of chapter 16, but as I have said before, will be on vacation all next week, so it is the day before I leave and I wanted so badly to upload this chapter. Thanks a bunch for reading and please review.


	16. Chapter Sixteen

Chapter XVI

My troubles were far from over.

Gríma Wormtongue had decided that I ought to be married. Soon. Whether I liked it or not. He said it was not good for a young lady to remain single. Ha! Tell _that_ to Éowyn! If he even began to _hint_ around the subject of marriage, he would see Éowyn Unleashed. And that was not exactly a stroll through a garden either.

But this still put me in knee-deep horseshit.

Théoden, of course, in a sickening way, was going along with it. His desire was innocent: he wanted to be a grandfather. Gríma's was less virtuous: he wanted me out of the way. Apparently, I wielded a great influence over the King, since he had adopted me. Did Wormy care to take in mind that because of my female specific organs, I would never even _be_ listened to by anyone on political issues? But no matter: I needed to be married and should start a family, or so they said.

Things were definitely not working well.

Éowyn was not much comfort (surprise surprise). She had beaten out any idea of arranged matrimony from Théoden's head long ago.

I really should have known this would be coming, but I wanted to delay thoughts of those kind for a long, long time. I denied this scenario's existence (which was only unsuccessfully fooling myself) and now, like most bad situations that you try to suppress, it had come back and bitten me quite viciously in my donkey. I had thought Théoden would respect my wishes, which I thought were rather evident, though he, and I don't know if this was just him or men in particular, could be incredibly dense at points. What really enfuriated me the most was in the casual way it was spoken and in that atmosphere that it was brought up.

It was breakfast, and as usual, Gríma sat in between myself and Éowyn, but I had moved down the bench to be closer to Théoden as Éomer must have breakfasted early, and I did not care to remain close to that horrid beast that smelt of urine and wet dogs.

Perhaps it was the way that Théoden smiled at me that morning: hopeful, and almost pleading. He looked so pitiable: his hair had turned white, and he looked a bit like an old, old grandfather, begging for something. I knew what he wanted, and I felt my stomach lurch when he smiled so fondly and hopefully at me.

Gríma had claimed the hair color was due to stress. Anyone could see that, but what caused the stress was another question entirely.

Krane was not at the table either, so no moral support glances from him.

It is funny how one knows what is coming all along, yet still chooses not to believe it when it does.

"Lady Ardeas, it is high time that you should have a husband," came Wormy's voice. At least he cut straight to the point instead of using flowery language and dragging it all out.

I stayed silent. Best not encourage this sort of behavior. Not very smart to do so.

"A journey to Gondor is, of course as everyone knows, out of the question at this time. The roads are too dangerous for a civilian caravan that is traveling for non-wartime purposes."

Peachy. He was going to set me up with one of the local nobles. Hurrah.

"I believe that I have found a suitable young man for you. He comes from a well-bred family, his wealth is immense, and he is only eight years your senior."

Eight years! Stars, he was twenty-six! Around Éomer's age, in fact. Dammit! What was I going to do? Well-bred and immensely wealthy almost always add up to royal prick, a royal prick who does not care about me or my needs in the least. Brilliant.

"Would you care to hear his name, Lady?"

He smiled at me, cold-blooded way. Damn him. I half expected a forked tongue of a serpent to slither in and out of his mouth a couple of times.

"Yes, I would be interested in hearing the name of the man with whom I will now _have_ to spend the rest of my mortal life, my lord," I responded in a voice that would have frozen the Sea. Only Gríma seemed to have noticed my icy tone. Théoden, or should I say Father, was oblivious. Jerks, the lot of them.

"His name is Marris, son of Patrican, a lord of the Eastfold, and a leading major in the military. Marris himself has also shown impressive skill in commanding, and very much deserves his current military post of captain."

Marris... It sounded vaguely familiar. I think he had a twin sister or something. I cannot remember whether his parents were alive or not. I tried to pull a face to match the name, but it was an impossibility.

"Oh," was all I said. If he expected some spontaneous wails of despair, he had arranged the marriage of the wrong girl. If I was going to be miserable by his hand, then goshdarnit he was not going to know that he had reached me.

"The King and I have already taken the liberty to set up a meeting between you and this fine young man and one later with his family. I expect you should get along well with his mother Hulda, and especially with his twin sister Belindis."

Belindis! That was his twin sister? That little snot! I hated her the day I met her. I did not hate her nearly as much as I did Mortelia, but Belindis was a wicked girl of 26 who was married with two sweet children she did _not_ deserve. I never understood how her children never picked up her spiteful disposition. This was just getting better and better.

I looked down, refusing to meet eyes with Wormy. "When will I meet this man, milord?"

"This afternoon, if that is convenient."

He did not plan this meeting for my convience. Éowyn and I usually went out together to talk after lunch. The ass.

I gave a clandestine glance at Éowyn. She staring intently into her food, playing with it with her fingers. She appeared to be pretending that she was not hearing a thing. She noticed me watching, mumbled something indistinct, and left the table. She was not going to stay and rescue me from the situation.

I wanted to scream and pound my fists on the hard oak table and cry that it was not fair and that I did not want to do this. I wanted to stand, grip my dress, and scream with all my might and tell everyone to go do something inappropriate. This was not fair, and I was sick of it. I think I did the only sensible thing one can do when one is truly unhappy and unable to throw a tantrum, but desperately wants to: I burst into tears.

I stood and left the room, hearing Gríma saying something about me being so happy to Théoden.

Inside every person, and sometimes not very far inside, is a bratty little child who wants his way(**1**). Except, I think I deserve at least a little bit to be obstinate after what happened.

---

I do not quite remember what happened after that except that I went to my room and sat around feeling miserable the rest of the morning, crying at random intervals. I think someone knocked on the door, but I must have pretended that I was not there, and they left. The person I had wanted to speak to the most was Krane, but in my stupor, I really did not care to leave my safe, warm room to find him.

Just before lunch, after still not seeing anyone, I just let myself go. I grabbed my blanket, stuffed my face into it, and screamed my heart out and pounded my fists on the bed. It helped a little, but it did nothing to help the situation at hand. There was another knock at the door.

My mouth, still muffled in the blanket, yelled out "What?" in my most I'm-in-a-very-bad-mood-don't-provoke-me-voice.

"'Tis time for luncheon," came Éowyn's voice. She sounded vaguely repentant.

"I am not hungry."

The door burst opened and I could almost see Éowyn from the way she spoke.

"Oh stop being so obstinate! Your moaning and groaning is not going to solve a thing. You are most likely not going to convince Uncle to get you out of this mess, but it could be a lot better if you looked at the best of things."

I gave her my glare. "Such as?"

"Uncle could have had you marry Lord Arkadia or whatever his title is."

"I would jump off the top of Meduseld before I married him." It was true. Lord What's-his-title had a hunched back, a _very_ foul mouth, and sixty-two years behind shrewd, cruel eyes.

Éowyn smiled in triumph, though still retaining her cool manner.

I pretended to look thoughtful. "No, I take that back. More likely, I would push _him_ off the top of Meduseld."

She shook her head. "Come on. You do not have to eat, but you should at least have something to drink before meeting Marris."

I narrowed my eyes, "Do your best not to mention his name."

Éowyn gave an exasperated sigh and left the room.

I pulled myself under the covers and lay their with my eyes wide open in the darkness beneath the blankets. I could feel the wood slats underneath me, digging into my back like wooden spikes. I felt like I was being impaled by a blunt object that was not cleanly slicing me, but instead taking its precious time. I screamed when something crawled through my hair.

I jumped out of bed and went to the looking glass that Théoden had gifted me a few years back. Little white things were hanging onto my hair, and I felt the desperate urge to itch my scalp.

Dammit.

The day I was meeting my future husband was the _perfect_ day to find nits in my hair. Not that his thoughts on my appearance bothered me overly much. No matter what the hygienic habits of the Edoras society were, I was going to bathe while the rest of them ate luncheon.

I peered out from behind my door, making sure no one was in the hall. If there had been anyone traversing the hall, I would have been utterly mortified and embarrassed and forced to run back into my room, lock the door, and huddle on my bed in a vague uncertainty. Fortunately for me, everyone was stuffing their faces like veritable pigs. I scurried down to the bathing closet, and pulled a tub about my size down the hall back to my room. I really did not want to bathe in the bathing room where anyone could walk in on me (fine, not exactly _anyone_, but any female). Luckily, the noise from the main hall somewhat dimmed the large wooden tub I was hauling. With the tub safely in my room, I hastened back to the closet and filled a bucket with water and made several trips until the tub was full, and thankfully, still had not encountered anyone. My luck was almost unbelievably good.

It was a pity that Edoras had no hot springs, but I made do with the cold water. It was uncomfortable but not unbearable. I used to bathing brush to thoroughly scrape my scalp clear of the little nits after rubbing the filmy soap through my hair. After giving the rest of my body a good wash, I dragged for what seemed like forever the tub down the hall and dumped the water out. After returning the tub and drying my hair at my dressing table, I spread yeast liberally through my hair. If that did not kill the little imps, nothing would. After letting it set for a short while, and hoping that most of the nits were dead, I went down to the bathing room and washed it out of my hair. There was no need for anyone to see me and know that I was trying to kill nits.

I selected a midnight blue dress, the finest I had, and tied a strand of shiny black beads around my throat, and then dabbed a smidgeon of rose oil on my neck. If I was going to meet my doom, I intended to go down looking my best, and then braided two white wildflowers into my black hair. I gave myself a once over in the looking glass. The black beads sparkled at me like spider's eyes, cold, contemptuous and dripping with poison. I shivered uneasily at the thought.

People began to exit the dining hall, and I heard raucous laughter in the hall. Brutes. I hope they choke on their afternoon mead.

AN: I'm so sorry that I kinda sorta promised to finish the story on the 26th. I had really hoped to post the last chapter then, but _somebody_ scheduled a vacation in during that time so I wouldn't be able to. I've made a lot of progress on this story I think (my first work of any kind to surpass the 100 page mark :so happy:).

PS: Kudos to anyone who can guess new characters' quality by their names before next chapter.

(**1**) Bill Watterson quote.


	17. Chapter Seventeen

Chapter XVII

I sat in the reading room with my chin high, and in good posture, rather than my usual laid back atmosphere. Éowyn had been _so_ kind to tell me that Wormy had arranged this cosy little get-together in the reading room and that I should not arrive first, for decorum purposes. Well I said that decorum should go do something that would be innapropriate to say among children, Éowyn turned ashen, and retreated to the apparent safety of her room. Ha! Guts of steel that woman has not. If she cannot take unladylike language from me, she is not going to take it well at all from men on the battlefield. Hmph. Score one for me.

So I went straight to the reading room, not allowing pointless formalities from preventing me from enjoying myself reading what Rohirric books I found interesting. Éowyn said I had looked stunning. I am quite sure I looked like a lummox all dressed up for a dance or a masque and reading a book that girls my age usually would not read.

It seemed like an eternity before there was a curt knock on the door, though it must have been only a few minutes.

"Enter." The word came as a sharp scrape on glass, quick and deft, but searing and acrimonious. This man needed to know that he walked on thin ice around me, dangerously thin ice.

The door opened and in stepped Marris. His black hair hung was pulled back and suspiciously looked like it had been groomed. His clothes were immaculate: a scarlet tunic and leggings as black as night, and a shiny pair of black boots. I instantly stood and curtsied, more out of fear than respect.

"My lady, there is no need for that."

A perfectly masculine bass was his voice. If I were the female heroine in one of Éowyn's sappy romance novels, I would be swooning and groveling at the man's feet by now. It takes a lot more for me to do that, however.

At first, I had refused to look him in the face, but now I looked him square in the eye as coldly and cruelly as I dared. I wished we were outside. The reading room's walls seemed to slowly advance around me.

"Good afternoon, my lord."

He smiled politely, but it was a blank smile and I could not tell if he really meant it or not. He motioned toward a chair.

"Please, sit."

I sat down on the padded wooden bench where I had been sitting, and to my utter annoyance, he did not sit in one of the chairs, but next to me on the bench. He lounged lazily back against the curved corner of the bench, one of his arms resting along the length of the back of the bench, and the other on the bench's arm. He stared at me with a half smile on his face, as he stretched his long legs out in front of me.

I sat perched on the edge of the bench and stared down at his black leather boots that set before like a foot-rest. He shifted to cross them at the ankle. I turned and watched him, and I am very sure he saw me utterly terrified, all form of the past cold semblance gone, and instead left with sheer blind horror. I do not know why. He was not threatening me or hurting me, or even staring at the wrong places on my body. But I felt that if I should not get away from him at that very instant, I should suffer a long painful death.

He had to have seen my terror. It would have been impossible to not see it, but there was no response from him.

I could not move. I felt as if I were standing in the middle of a white frozen wasteland, arms stretched out, calling for help, and knowing that it would never come. I turned away from his face and played with the folds of my dress, all confidence that had been with me when I dress had disappeared. What on Arda was wrong with me?

"You have matured into a very beautiful woman, milady. It is hard to remember the day that Théoden King dragged you into Meduseld, so scrawny and dirty. You have truly blossomed."

His handsome features smiled again, and I felt like I was going to die. I managed to choke out a harsh "thank you, my lord" before I sensed vomit threatening to make its way up my throat.

If this reaction happened to me when I was just sitting with him, what would happen when we officiated the vows? What would happen when he had to consummate the marriage so that the blasted bloodied sheet could be shown?

A thousand knives were tearing at my skin and my eyes began to water out of pain and fear. My heart beat wildly, and a single tear trailed down my left eye, the eye away from him. I turned away slightly so that he would not notice, and allowed the tear to imbed itself into the fabric of my dress. I pretended I was rubbing my nose while I wiped away the marks so that should I need to turn my face toward him, he would not see the trail. Why on Arda was this happening to me?

After a few more statements on his behalf and a few more monosyllabic replies on mine, he decided it would be romantic to caress my cheek with the back of his hand. I could not control my reaction of shying away.

He looked at me in a smug way, as if he was going to enjoy himself with me. I took several deep breaths and tried to pretend that it was all a dream, and that I would wake up tomorrow to Findulwyn pouring a bucket of water over my head, and that I was needed to scour the floors, once again. I went hungry with Rourn and Findulwyn, but I never felt so sickened like I did with Marris.

I abruptly stood, and threw him off guard for a quick moment. But he sat up as quickly as I had stood and continued his stare with a smirk on his lips that was not in the least attractive.

"Would you care for a walk in the practice fields, my lord? I find this room growing uncomfortably warm."

I was in fact freezing my appendages off, but I did not want him to offer me anything. I looked at him expectantly, hoping he would decline, whereupon I could rush straight back to my room. Instead, he nodded and stood next to me. It was then that I realized his height: he was at least 18 handbreadths high a little unusual for the Rohirrim. He towered over me threateningly, but his countenance was the usual self-satisfied smile.

Hesitantly, I took his proffered arm, and walking slowly down the halls and up the dark stairs and into the blazing sunlight of the day.

-

We did not say much as we strolled the grounds. I really did not care where we walked, and it would not have mattered if I had because he led and I began to feel that his decisions brooked no arguments whatsoever. I feared greatly seeing this man angry. He was almost exactly like his sister, that serpent Belindis, except he was quiet, but in his silence was the greatest fear I had ever experienced. If I was ever alone in a room with Gríma Wormtongue, and his tongue was unable to call for help, then I was going to systematically pull his guts out for arranging my marriage to this beastly, beastly man.

We walked back toward the heavy doors, and like a perfect gentleman, opened and then allowed me through first. To my utter surprise, Mortelia stood at the door, poised to take the handle. She was undoutably heading outside to flirt with anything with male organs within a radius of two hundred feet. Her presence and our undoubtable argument that would soon follow would be a pleasing break to Marris's presence. I could have embraced her.

In my sweetest sugary let-me-kill-you voice I exclaimed, "Oh helloo, my dear Lady Mortelia. How _are_ you on this bright sunny day? Going outside? I daresay it will do you a bit of good. Where exactly were you going?" I ended my little spiel with a cute/fake smile.

Her chin fell, and I was a little surprised it did not continue dropping until it touched the ground. I gave her a gormlessly charming smile with my teeth clenched together, allowing her to know that in now way in heaven or hell was this a truce.

Mortelia was not the only one looking at me in disbelief. Marris had his eyebrows raised way above his normal level of smug surprise.

"Do close your mouth, dear, unless you are trying to formulate a reply," I said, lifting a hand and gracefully pointing at her mouth.

She closed it abruptly, her eyes remaining incredibly wide, and at the same time Marris shook himself back into his operational mode. With impressive speed, Mortelia replaced the surprised and alarm look with a cruel smile that had failed to intimidate me for a long time. The words dripped from her mouth like a bitter molasses, sticky, frothy, but venomous.

"Oh my dear Ardeas," she said, emphasizing the word _lady_, or the lack thereof, "I am just on a pleasant walk out on the grounds. My my, it is a beautiful day, isn't it? And you simply _must_ tell me who your friend is?"

She knew very well who my companion was. Rumor had it she had played the nocturnal tango with him at least thrice, and according to the gossipers in the kitchen, once in a broom closet utilizing a bucket, a broomstick, and a large pot of honey in a way that I really did not care to know, and another time on top of the stable roof. The kitchen staff told me that she had been so completely hammered from the wine that they had been drinking that she was passionately kissing the decorative wooden horse's head at the crown of the roof for nearly three minutes before she realized it was not him, mostly because the head was completely immobile and not even allowing her to put her tongue inside his mouth. Well, its mouth, I should say. The thought made me wonder exactly what she was thinking when she was licking the wooden lips and presumably trying to nip at the lower lip. Maybe something like _Stars, he's got hard muscle in his lips!_.

"Oh my dear, this is Lord Marris," I pointed at him an he bowed respectfully as she curtsied and flushed a light shade of pink when he looked her in the eye. We are going to be betrothed, as I am sure you know."

It was rather odd that the first person I told about this was Mortelia, my most hated adversary in Meduseld.

Well, as a matter of fact, Mortelia, once Queen of Gossip, had lost her touch and the look on her face when I said that little tidbit was priceless.

She looked between us completely surprised. And as if to strengthen what I said, Marris nodded in agreement. She recovered very hastily, the cruel smile once again on her lips.

"Oh isn't that so thoroughly wonderful. Everyone will be so pleased."

"Oh I know, I am so very happy. But you must keep it a secret. I believe Father wants to announce it personally, most likely tonight at dinner. Promise you won't say?"

"You know I would _love_ to, but for your sake, because we're such good friends, I promise I won't."

Lying bitch. I smiled at her and hope I communicated through my smile that she could be eaten by an orc and I would not give a damn. I am rather good with smiles in cases like this.

She patted my cheek with a sappy smile, though it was more of a soft slap. I smiled as fakely back in return as I could.

"My dear, it is getting late and I must begin my walk or I should be walking through dinner!" she gave a fake giggle, "Ardeas, we have _so_ much to talk about! I shall see you at dinner, I hope?"

"Oh _absolutely_, my dear."

And with a melodramatic flourish that would have sent me into aching laughter if Marris hadn't been there, she was down the steps and onto the practice field, zeroing in on the closest male, which sadly happened to be poor Brannen, whom I had only occasionally greeted since he had taken me to Edoras four years ago.

It was with great shock that I noted that Marris had seized me roughly by the wrist and was pulling me through the door, which he closed as soon as we were inside. He pushed me roughly up against the wall, using his body to keep me in place, and with both of my wrists in his grasp, I was completely immobile.

"What do you think you are doing?" I cried angrily, desperately, hopefully trying to struggle away. My worst fears were rearing their ugly heads. His face was inches away from mine and he was seething and angry. For a moment I thought he was going to strike me.

"Exactly what was that, Lady Ardeas?" he said, saliva from his words hitting my cheek, and I was unable to wipe it away with my hands.

"I was speaking to a friend. Why? What does it matter?" So I lied. He was not being very considerate or gentle either, so I think I had an excuse.

"That was a complete lie. You hate Lady Mortelia." His nose was a scant inch from mine, but I pray to whoever controls things that I never see anyone else's eyes as angry as his were. Blazing black eyes that were cold and desolate, his handsome face distorted in absolute fury. I had never seen anyone this angry in my life.

"I have an intense dislike for her person. I do not hate her."

He pulled me forward and then slammed me against the wall. "Don't lie to me! You are going to be my wife, and I will not allow my wife to be a liar! I will not allow my wife to try to deceive me!"

"Stop it! Please, I wasn't trying to trick you!" I cried. If I had felt frightened when he sat next to me, fear is too mild a word for what I felt now. Blood coursed through my veins at unimaginable speeds, tears were forming in my eyes as my head swam. I began to see spots and my vision was getting indistinct. But his eyes remained unchanged, cold and hating.

"Do not ever lie to me!" Another slam against the wall. I could see black spots flying across the ceiling.

"I won't; I won't!" I screamed, trying to gain control of my senses. My tears began to hang onto my chin, waiting for more water to make them too heavy and then drip down onto my blue dress that I knew I would never wear again.

"What will you not do, love? Tell me what you will _not_ do!" Another push against the stone wall, and I knew that I was going to throw-up.

"I won't lie to you! I won't deceive you! Please! Stop it!"

Suddenly, he dropped me and took off down the hall, and I slid down the wall and threw up everything onto the floor in front of me, tears trailing down and landing in my vomit. I wanted nothing more than to be in someone's arms who would hold me and tell me that everything would be all right in the end. I wanted to feel warm and loved, and not huddle on cold stone floor with cold stone behind me and unfeeling wood above me, vomit before me, and its stench consuming all of my senses.

I coughed several times, getting the last of everything out. There was an acute empty feeling traveling throughout my entire body, and I felt like there would be only a void, should someone open my body.

I pulled myself up and crawled back to my room. No one saw me. No one was there to hold me when I returned to my room. No one was there was embrace me and tell me that they loved me and that they were going to fight to the last breath so that I would not have to wed Marris. No one was there at all.

I took a cloth and washed away all the tear tracks, chewed on some mint leaves for my breath, and changed everything that I was wearing, including my undergarments. When I went down to the library where Krane and Éowyn were talking and laughing together and joined their conversation, they suspected nothing.

There are a lot of things in life you musn't believe.

Author's Note:

Please note that I am using the measurement handbreadth as about 4 inches/10.16cm, so Marris is about 6 foot 2 inches, or for the rest of the world who intelligently uses the metric system, almost 188 centimeters tall.

Do recall that in the Middle Ages, it was a little unusual for men and women to reach 6 feet tall. Charlemagne, 6 feet, towered over the rest of his court.

Anyway, hoped you enjoyed reading the chapter.

And as always, please review, or I will send a Mary-Sue plot bunny to your home, and you will be forced to write it! BWUHAHAHAHA!

Riiiight.


	18. Chapter Eighteen

Chapter XVIII

Éowyn and Krane were so happy enjoying each others' company, and I think, or at least, I hope that they enjoyed my presence as well. I did not say nearly as much as I usually do when I talk to either or both of them, but I think I contributed enough so that they would not become distrustful of my meeting with Marris. This time, when they asked me how the introduction went, I had a formulated response that had been going through my head. I had resolved, after being completely taken off my guard by Gríma's announcement, to never deny the inevitable and to prepare for it.

Krane was a little less impatient than Éowyn, so he was the first to ask. "Ardeas, I was wondering, out of curiousity, how did your introduction to Marris go?" Apparently, Éowyn had told him.

My reply came as easily as my tears had come when Marris slammed me against the wall, "Oh, I do not know if we will get along very well. There is no, or hardly any, common ground. He doesn't like reading of any sort, any form of astronomy, art, or music. His only loves are for weapons of all sizes and horseback riding." I tactfully decided not to mention his rumored love for women of all types.

"Ahh," Krane said smiling, "That is too bad. But I am afraid that you will find most men in Edoras a little less cultured than you might in Minas Tirith or Dol Amroth."

Éowyn laughed lightly at the trivialness of my statement. She knew as well as I that marriages should not be built on things about which a couple can speak together. But I would rather have her think me ignorant than to receive false sympathy if I told her that Marris was a conceited prick who made me feel ill and just recently caused me to vomit and cry in the hall. I believe the vomit is still there.

I smiled brightly, hoping that the subject would be dropped. I was in no mood for tearful confessionals now. I just wanted to be left alone, with no prying fingers trying to dig deeper into my world.

My attention turned to Éowyn, "Will he be seated beside me at dinner tonight?"

"I don't think so. I think everyone will be in their usual places. Uncle will probably announce the betrothal some time when everyone is still there, but dinner itself is mostly over."

I relaxed a little too visibly, and she gave me a curious look. I lied easily, "I really don't want to spend my entire dinner trying to find something that interests us both. I am at my wits end on it."

Éowyn grinned, understanding what I meant. I felt really awful lying to her. She was one of the three people I could sort of trust, and I hated lying to her, but I did not see any other options.

They talked for a few more minutes before Éowyn excused herself to change for dinner. It was then that Krane began the interrogation that I had not expected.

"Ardeas, what exactly don't you like about your almost fiancé?

Do you want a list?

"I think its mostly we have no common ground. Marriages are based on communication, and if we have nothing to talk about, it is not going to work so well," I lied as easily as I had to Éowyn. But this time, I felt ashamed to say that I felt no twinge of guilt.

He gave me a curious look. "Are you sure?"

This was going in a bad direction. I decided to change the subject.

"Of course. But Krane?"

"Yes?"

"Have you ever been married?"

His eyes darkened, "Almost. But don't change the subject. I am not finished." He gave me a queer look.

"Apologies."

"Do you want to marry him at all?"

I shifted uncomfortably in my seat. One false move and all my hopes of being unnoticed would be lost. "Not especially. He is handsome and gentlemanly but is not really the kind of man I want to marry."

"Why is that?"

"As I said before," I began, irritated and a little worried, "We have no common ground. He doesn't like history or languages or astronomy or anything in particular that I like. I don't care much for weapons or anything like such that he adores."

Krane raised an eyebrow. "Could you describe his relationship to weaponry?"

Danger zone. Red flags were waving around in my head. He was trying to test me. "Not very well. We've only spent part of the afternoon together and we hardly talked, or at least, hardly had a conversation." Inwardly, I congratulated myself over the save.

Krane steepled his hands and leaned back in the chair, nodding, slouching slightly with his legs stretched out before him. He had probably been the military at some point in time, perhaps at the same time as Marris, and of course, he lived in Meduseld, so it was obvious he knew Marris to the point where he could tell when I was lying about Marris. This was a very worrisome and uncomfortable situation.

"Is there any other reason why you might choose to decline a betrothal with this young man?"

"No."

There was a small pause and he looked at me curiously. Dammit, if Marris acted the same way with other women as he did with me, then Krane might know it. I had a fat feeling that if I told anyone, there would be hell to pay from Marris, something that I knew he was more than capable of doing.

"Are you positive that there is no other reason?"

"Yes," I said, and then with an air of indifference as I brushed imaginary dust off my clothes, "Now Krane, I must change my attire for dinner."

"That would be the first time you have since you have come to Meduseld."

"Krane, look at it this way. I find it very uncomfortable for you to interrogate myself in such a manner. Do you trust me or not when I say "The reason I am unhappy with my upcoming marriage to Marris is because we cannot communicate"?

"Not especially."

"Oh."

The conversation rather went dead from that point. There really is that much more to say about the situation except that I kept shifting in my chair frequently, as Krane looked like he was trying to read my mind with one of his stares.

---

If everyone of those stupid people took one more bite of their food and talked and laughed and half spit their food out _one_ more time, I was going to poison every one of their drinks tomorrow at breakfast.

Each mouthful of my own food was a task to get down, and finally Théodred asked me if I thought it tasted bad. Of course, it was probably the most wonderful food I had tasted. Théoden, for the celebration, had ordered that dinner be suckling pigs with apples and grapes from Gondor, the traditional whole wheat bread served with the best butter ever churned, roast pheasant served with succulent quail eggs, trout from the Snowbourn, and even some of the best wines and meads were brought out for consumption. And to top it off, there were raspberry tarts, cakes dripping in peach, pear, and apple glaze, a magnificent bottle of port reserved for the upper table, and to top it off, a rare treat of oranges, hollowed out and filled with a creamy, orange-flavored, ice cold almost beverage like dessert that must have taken a good bit of skill to make so quickly so that it did not melt before it reached the table.

I should have enjoyed the feast. I probably would never have one like it again for a very long time, but I couldn't. It wasn't the spectacle of the serving girls bringing out magnificent trays of some exotic foods that I had never even dreamed of existing, and it wasn't even the rude, unrestrained courtiers who seemed to have forgotten manners and scrambled to get whatever they could. It wasn't even the dratted fat old woman, some aging duchess or what-have-you down the table who took over half of all the quail eggs for herself and still gorged on everything else.

It might have been Gríma who kept touching my thigh and I couldn't tell him to stop and that he was making me sick. If I had screamed, I doubt many would have noticed, having imbibed too much of a rich intoxicating cordial or feeling so completely bloated that they didn't give a damn about anything except lying down for a few hours. I would have crawled into Éomer's lap to get away from Wormy, but that would have resulted in heaven knows what. I just wish Wormy would get his dratted hand off my leg and leave me alone. He had already ruined my life damned well with having me tie the knot with some person who probably would beat me or worse.

The announcement of my engagement came and went without much ado, I was pleased to note. Théoden shouldn't have given a perfectly glorious feast if he wanted people to pay attention. The quail egg woman took one egg and stuck it on her tongue and chewed with her mouth open. Marris looked up at me from his part of the table with a look that scared the shit out of me. I pretended to be thoroughly engrossed in my orange.

Éomer gave me a nudge. I was supposed to say something back to Théoden.

"Pardon me, Father, I did not hear what you said."

He smiled fatherly and murmured something about being in love.

"I asked you, how did your meeting with your fiancé go? Do you like him?" He smiled hopefully at me.

Oh dear.

"He was very different from anyone I have known. I have not met one like him."

So I didn't completely lie, but what was I going to say? 'He hurt me and made me vomit and I hate his guts'? Marris would probably kill me, Gríma would behead my corpse, and Théoden would cry his eyes out because I was not safely accounted for when he finally died.

I desperately wanted to shove Wormy's face into the pig he was eating. If I could have done that without serious repercussions, I certainly would have. Then maybe I wouuld run away to some distant village and pretend that the King had not adopted me and that I was not engaged against my will, and maybe I would live forever and ever, completely happy and without some disturbed husband sleeping beside me at night with me wondering if this night with him would be my last before he finally beat me into a pulp.

Oh yes, Father, I liked my fiancé very much.

Author's Note: I think I liked the last chapter a little better than this one. But what can I say? School is coming closer and closer and I don't want to start term quite yet. I've just gotten used to not waking up and being dragged to school at some God-forsaken hour in the morning, and I don't want to start again. Sorry about the updates, but even though I wrote the chapters, I never got around to posting them. Apologies. And another thing, I'm just going to stop giving dates when I expect to finish the story. I have been writing considerably more than I usually do over the summer, but it isn't enough. _Uninfinity_ will probably not be released until, if I'm lucky, Christmas time, which sounds awful to say, but that's probably how it will end out. Thanks to everyone for all the support, praise, constructional criticism and everything, and I hope you enjoyed this chapter. May I also recommend my fictionpress account, where I now have three vignettes that are running low on reviews :). And as always, please review anything of mine.


	19. Chapter Nineteen

Chapter XIX

I exited the table as soon as possible once the meal was officially over, claiming headache or some other equally foolish reason. I dared not be caught by Marris who might want to have another heart to heart or by Théoden to pester me over whether I liked Marris or even Wormy who might smile gleefully at my discomfort. Bastards.

It was completely humiliating to sit there, and I felt like such an idiot. I was glad I left. There was a sick feeling in my stomach, and I felt like crying again. I lay on my bed and stared at the ceiling, not even needing to close my eyes to rest. Just breathing in and out. I wished more than anything that my mother or even Morwyn was here to put her arms around me and tell me everything would turn out for the best and that they would always be here for me when the tears broke loose. But there was only silence in the room.

I practically snapped Éowyn's head off when she knocked a few minutes later, mostly for interrupting me, and partly for scaring the daylights out of me.

She turned to leave, but I relented allowing her to come in.

"Do you want to talk about it?" she asked quietly. Éowyn could be a prick at times, as I am sure we all can be, but she knew this time that my life was getting dangerously shitty for me.

I nodded slowly, taking a deep breath and closing my eyes, preparing myself for everything.

"There is more to your unhappiness with your marriage than lack of communication, correct?"

For the second time today I was going to be grilled on this. I thought I was going to be throttled by Marris if he ever found out I told someone what he had done to me, and therefore had kept my mouth shut. But the more I looked at it, the more I knew that it didn't really matter that I had lost my will to care what he did to me, strangely enough. I was going to meet death, sooner or later, though preferably later, and if he hurt me or not did not seem to matter. The fact that he was violent and probably would be to me throughout our marriage would damage his reputation little. People united in o-so-holy matrimony because of mutual love were rare.

I nodded in answer to her question.

"I thought so," she replied. She glanced at me curiously. "Did you throw up today?"

Oh gosh. This was going a bit fast, wasn't it? I could lie to her, but we had this little unspoken truce at the moment and it would make me feel guilty to lie to her at this moment.

"Yes."

"The hallway that leads to out of doors?"

"Yes."

"Did he hurt you?"

I swallowed my saliva uneasily. Here was the clincher. Could I say it? Would it even matter? From what I had heard, abusive husbands were the norm. Would anybody care?

"Yes."

"Why?"

"He said I was lying."

"Did you?"

"I would not call it lying."

"What did you do?"

I explained the situation to her, in as few words as possible. There was no need to drag out the situation. I felt sick again, and began to wish that Éowyn had never come, or at the very least, would leave.

She gave a half smile at the account of my interaction with Mortelia, but it faded with my statement of what happened immediately after. She looked at me with pity and I couldn't look her in the eye and we both knew that nothing could be done about it.

"I am sorry."

"Don't say it if you don't mean it, Éowyn."

"I mean it, Ardeas."

I glanced out the window, giving her the signal that this conversation was over. She did not quite take the hint, but remained sitting in the chair.

"Would you mind leaving?"

She gave an irritated sigh, giving me the impression that she thought me ignorant and immature, "Do you want me to leave?"

"Yes. I have a great deal to think about."

She raised her eyebrows and half rolled her eyes. "Suit yourself then."

Éowyn left me alone in the room, and it was such a relief to end the awkward and uneasy chatter.

-

In a rare fit of nostalgia, I decided to watch the sunset, this time from a more secluded position where certain annoying and downright nasty advisors would not find me with designs on my life. I went out to the back porch, if you could call it that. I noticed that all traces of my retching were completely gone, proof that it had been noticed. I pretended to be going for a walk around the practice field, for the sake of the guards' eyes only, but instead turned around out of sight to one side of Meduseld where I looked to see if it was feasible and at least somewhat safe for me to climb onto the roof.

There was really no climbing material on the walls, so I managed to climb up the aging yew tree that stood beside Meduseld, and thereby managed to get a hold of the sturdy wooden decorations that outlined the roof (The thatch did not look quite safe enough for me, even if workmen had climbed up there to paint pitch over the grease-paper skylights.). And while it was a bit difficult climbing, and I expected that it would be even more dangerous climbing down, it was completely worth it to sit on top of roof, leaning against the decorative horse's head, and watched the sunset.

The wind made my eyes water a bit and reddened my cheeks, but it was a completely and utterly spectacular sight and made up for the awful day I had been having.

And when the streaks of light had disappeared completely and the pinks and reds and faded beyond recall and the world sat in darkness, I continued to sit, feeling like a foolish little girl, a stupid little girl who has nothing better to do than to cry and whine over nothing.

I am not quite sure how long I sat on top of the roof but when my head began to nod, I figured it was a good time to get down, especially since I was not particularly exited about falling asleep on top of a building, a building with very steep sides that's roof was a good ways further from the ground than I would have liked.

The journey downward was successful, and neither did I have any sort of emotional breakdown or I fell and damaged something painfully. I sat on the porch, pulling my arms into my dress for warmth, staring out into the cold night, shivering in the biting wind. I gazed out into the distance at nothing in particular, the sky a deep midnight blue lit up with stars that look like jewels. A cloud rolled in and shrouded everything in a cold blackness, and brought with the cloud was a cold damp wind that swirled around everything uncomfortably and spoke of impending rain. Thunder sounded in the distance and before I knew it, tiny crystal plummeted to the earth, whistling faintly through the air. The guards looked at me as if I was a madwoman as I stepped out into the rain and held my arms aloft. Their pleas to return to shelter went unheeded and were drowned out in the beauty of the moment. I closed my eyes and stretched my arms heavenward, as far as I could and sang a lullaby, long forgotten.

The moment was implanted into my memory before I was roughly turned around to see Marris's face, so angry in mine. He brought his hand back and slapped me clean across my face while water droplets dripped off the edge of his nose. My cheek stung ceaselessly, and I guessed that there would probably be a mark from that slap. I stared into his eyes to see if I could find a single iota of kindness, of love, of charity, or of benevolence. There was nothing in his eyes except for spite.

"You little fool! If you catch a cold it could be the death of you! Get back indoors."

The one second of unadulterated happiness shattered into a thousand pieces, but I quietly lowered my head and stepped quickly back toward the porch where I noticed one of the guards smirking in my direction. Bastard.

The ground, now soaking, was covered in mud that made unpleasant noises as he pulled me back to Meduseld. Lightning flashed nearby, setting everything ablaze in a white glow for an instant. I felt so tired. I only wanted to sleep and forget everything.

We climbed the steps to the porch and out of the rain, mud coating my fine leather shoes and his boots, which were no less fine. My body kept trying to shiver but I refused to let myself show a sliver of weakness.

We parted at the stairs.

"Change into something dry. And do not ever do that again."

Cold and heartless. I glared daggers into the back of his head as he turned away.

"I hope you choke on your own cruelty, you bastard," I whispered after he was out of view, but even after everything, I could not put any heart into it. I really did not care what happened anymore.

I returned to my room and did change into a black robe and sat by the fire, staring into it. My stomach grumbled petulantly, harshly reminding me of my supper, or the lack thereof. My stomach's incessant grumbling was suppressed, and I continued to lean my head on the wall as I watched the fire.

A quick knock on the door followed by a familiar face looking in.

"May I enter, Ardeas?" Éowyn asked.

"If you must."

"Another confrontation with Marris?" she quietly inquired after hearing my almost cruel reply.

"Men are bastards."

Éowyn's mouth formed a soft humored smile.

"They really can be." She paused, noticing my wet hair and damp skin. "Did you just bathe? That must have been a long bath indeed. You have been gone since just before sunset. You were not even at supper, much to Uncle's disappointment."

I glanced passively at her, "I did not bathe. I watched the sunset and sang in the rain, but one of the guards told Marris who put a stop to me standing in the rain." I did not mention the fact that I watched the sunset from the roof – only gods would know how badly she would react to that little tidbit.

"You are very lucky you did not catch a cold though."

I sent her a withering look. "Yes, as I am sure you know, Marris was kind enough to tell me that, and explain to me that I will never disobey his high and mighty word again."

"Marris _can_ be a little, hmm…, demanding sometimes."

"Understatement," I muttered.

She smiled vaguely and sat down while the conversation died. There was a long pause as I stared into the fire contemplating everything from my betrothal to an utter prick to blasted Wormy to even the Westron books from the library that Krane was hiding under his bureau.

We sat in a cozy silence, each of us watching the flames dance in the hearth.

As the rain pelted the window harshly, demanding entrance into the warm room, I wished for true companionship, like I had shared with Morwyn the short time I had known her. Someone who would not call it treason to criticize the King, someone who I could tell everything, someone who would stand up for me, someone to hold me close when I cried. Éowyn was more of a lady than I could ever be. I hated this life. Sometimes in the deepest darkness of my innermost thoughts, in the furthermost corner of my mind, and the most remote place in my soul, I wished for an end to this, even if in order to accomplish that, I would meet my end.

As Éowyn read a small book that she had found somewhere in my room, I turned away and watched rain drops streak down the window. I had never felt safer in my warm room with a fire blazing and a cold night out of doors, but I had never felt more alone.

AN: Sorry about the long time before an update but I finally got my new computer and I spent all day transferring files via floppy since Lucille does not have a USB port. School has been trying – I only enjoy three of my classes – the rest are pains in the ass. I took a wellness day (yes, already) and I now want more of them. I _hate_ school.

I also have been writing Perks of Being a Wallflower type letters (writing letters to someone who does not know who you are and he or she doesn't reply – like a Blog except only one person can read it) and my goal is to have one letter for every school day and one for each weekend, so a lot of time is spent doing that. _Uninfinity_ is going very slowly. I haven't touched it since August – can't seem to get a feel for it. _Charlie_, another story that I have been working on, can't seem to decide whether it is going to be a drama or a comedy – and it needs a rewrite. _Whatever Happened to Beatrice?_, a story of secrets and espionage in the 1870s is definitely going to be scrapped as I don't feel like doing any research on 19th century French customs and cultural influences. Another work of fiction, _A Mouth Full of Charcoal and Hair_ is going very badly, mostly because I wrote an outline for the story. On top of that, I have been considering turning my fictionpress vignette _Moonlight Sonata_ into a full-fledged work of fiction. And finally, a plot bunny about a cellist who loses his mind has been tugging on my hand for a while. I _hate_ school. I could write so much more if I did not have to go to school. Dammit.

School sucks. And Bushie's little No Child Left Behind Act hasn't done crap for my school district, which currently has a problem with a strange mold that "isn't dangerous" but requires men in astronaut suits from the state health department to get rid of. Go figure.

Thanks to everybody who reviewed – I can never get too many reviews.


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